#gluttony tag.

[roseoath-blog]

〔 LEO 〕 @duscast // long pig farm ; gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌This is perhaps the CLOSEST he may get to being home; perhaps, being a key word in all of this. He can't help shifting his line of sight towards the forbidden doors shut tight. This is Hell. This is Hell. Remember you're in HELL. Eyes return to the fuzzed stalk of a stout tomato vine, lifting to observe a muddled red reflection within the fruit. Don't look. Don't think.

It is of RELIEF to feel the flicker of a shadow across his form, a healthy distraction from the possibly sinister out of bounds nature HIDDEN within. A snap as he plucks the plump tomato from the vine, fruit settled atop a pile of others. He shakes his head, wiping away sweat with the back of a hand.

❝Don't you look like a FANCY lad,❞ he remarks, crystalline eyes squinting in mild suspicion. ❝Must say, you look like the sort who had servants do this for them.❞

Yet he holds his tongue against lashing further quips, wandering stare taking in the hardened features of the young man's lips and eyes. ❝Say...❞ he begins cautiously. ❝Do you even know the RIGHT ones to pick?❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER 〕 @forsakenwarchief // gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌It is still UNCLEAR whether he believes in the rumours or not.

The idea that Hell would provide a LITERAL garden of starvation is not a strange one; knowing of the monsters who run this place, it speaks volumes. that they would toy with their prisoners in such a way. He gazes into the NOW EMPTIED bottle of his ale and can't help but wonder if he's already in the garden. ❝Fuck you,❞ he whispers to the bottle. Fuck addiction.

The man who is seated next to him is CERTAINLY more than a few screws loose in the head, though perhaps he too has drunk more than he likely should. An unreliable source of information like every other being who brought up the FABLED garden.

❝How do you expect me to find this garden if you don't even know where the fuck it is?❞ Loghain snaps, slamming his bottle against the table. He ignores the hush that settles over the room as is TYPICAL fashion to his ever dwindling patience. ❝Come back when you're sobered up. Or not. I don't care.❞

[roseoath-blog]

〔 SIGURD 〕 @dawnofdestruction // gluttony.

—✕ █ ▌He doesn't NEED to eat any longer.

The sensation makes very little sense to him, having to spend the past ten or so years working on a very peculiar, SPECIFIC diet. He isn't quite accustomed to the lack of a growling stomach, to the calories meant to be counted. It makes him ill, and he doesn't know if it is addiction and gluttony that drives him, or the utter sense of WRONGNESS that being here provides.

He doesn't care. He eats and he eats.

❝It is ODD going from having to eat twice as much as an average man to ... not needing to eat at all,❞ he explains, twisting a french fry between index finger and thumb. ❝I FEAR I may grow fat on the food of this Circle, but to live contradictory to what I'm used to? That takes getting used to.❞