FRIGID WINDS PRICK BARE FLESH && exposed forearms rest upon the cragged ledge of his chamber’s balcony. he’s adorned by a moonlit torso, an attenuated layer of crystalized frost coating his surroundings. dual fists clench, nails assaulting the meat of his palm with crescent moon impressions ( a habit which has obtained stark scars following decades of execution ). his cerebrum is infiltrated by an interjecting council, conflicting accords, and a country littered with envenomed intent –– would a moravian guard cascade next, would craven toxins spark a subsequent war ?
the creak of his room’s egress splinters reflective turmoil. he pivots, a far tamer winter left rearwards as he emerges from exterior shadows. weapons prepared for eternal conflict remain reposed, the intruder’s familiarized identity able to ease taut posture. hazel irises scrutinize an assortment of scattered documents as bloodstained hand retrieves a silver chalice from lumbered surface. despite brooding attributes, the margrave’s tone expels calm. ❛ find a tavern to dismantle ? ❜
♛ STARTER . // @seabvrn
