#enviedillusion

[unholyrod]

[ @enviedillusion ]

in stance, rod held out his hands, like a bow was held -- but there was none. teal-blue flames burned up from his forward palm, arcing up into a bend, and he tugged an invisible string that flared to glowing life as he drew it back.

side-lit by the hellfire armament, rod glanced over at the other archer. “what’s yours look like?”

[btchcrft]

even though he lives in a house full of mages, it feels strange that there’s a son of sorcery when he’s been the son of witchcraft since his arrival. even still, to hold a grudge solely based on that would be ridiculous.

but no one said that kian prieto was perfect. 

he sees the newest addition to their lines, the son of circe, walking through the snow blanketed paths that connect the camp. he hasn’t properly introduced himself yet so now, he figured, is the best time to do it. 

with a gloved hand, he stops walking in front of the son of circe, and uses the most charming smile he thinks he can muster—only slightly forced. 

“kian prieto, son of hecate, goddess of witchcraft.” he says, teeth shining like moonlight against the red of his lips. “pleasure to meet you.”