@infernusvacua !!
CONCERN IS QUICKLY UNEARTHED FROM IGNEOUS ROCK, the alarming sensation washing over otherwise dull nerves as she waits for him to arrive. Sanem is no lover of the endlessly unraveling unknown — its elusive skin always slipping freely from her grasp the very moment she think she’s captured it. That is what Adonis is to her: the unknown. To the naked eye, he appears to be a wholly loyal friend of the holy empire, an immaculate asset to the Almighty’s cause here on Earth, but Sanem is no fool. Keen eyes have been trained to study what is unseen, to acknowledge what most try to hide. She wonders if his grace is as pure as he would have her assume, or if it has been tainted by Earthly vices. Is his soul stained in hues of red, gray and unforgiving black — the colors of dangerous wanting, the colors of the eternally damned? Only time would tell.
She’s called him here in an effort to bridge the gap, to finally do away with the unknown. She wants to know him, if only to ensure that his loyalties lie in the correct place and that he is willing to answer the call that’s been given to him by his creator. Sanem has no time for traitors, for she has torn through the chests of old comrades whose devotion was no longer directed towards Heaven, but towards the demon blood that magnified their abilities. Every day, one of their kind falls which adds yet another devious soul to the resistance, a worrying fact that even Sanem loathes to admit. She knows virtually nothing of Adonis’ intentions, but she cannot completely rule out the possibility of him possibly becoming a thorn in her side at some point in this unholy war. Everyone is guilty until proven innocent, and Sanem will be their judge, jury, and unrelenting executioner.
Her head quickly turns to face him the moment he steps into view, forcing dark brown curls to spill over proud shoulders as a result of the sudden movement. Sanem rises to her feet, staring him directly in the eye as though she’s already formed a lasting opinion on him (and she absolutely has). She offers him no warm greeting, no friendly smile to soften the growing tension that’s all too obvious. Sanem does, however, gesture for him to have a seat beside her as she sinks almost inelegantly back into her seat. “Adonis,” She calls out to him with a noticeably flat tone. She’d never been known for having a melodic voice, but even now her tone seems even drier than normal, even drier than necessary. “come and sit. I trust you aren’t busy?”
