ɪᴜᴅɪᴄɪᴜᴍ.〔ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳᵐᵃᵗʰ〕
❝ 暗い天の烏 —
❝--Well done, my friends. We are that much closer toward our ultimate victory.❞
Could such words be considered less enthusiastic than expected? Could his tone be a tad too light, his grin not quite as large as one might have anticipated? Oh, of course -- for the Crow would not let himself show any large amount of emotion, of gratitude or satisfaction; he would not beam with ragged joy at the burning and drowning of his enemies, nor would he let out the sharp laugh that tickled the back of his throat as those of divine descent were crushed into obliteration.
All had gone according to his plan. Even the towns in which the death toll was minimal had been heinously affected by the carnage; no one had been left unscathed, nor would their strength be anywhere close to its peak for months at the least.
Yet he would not let his disciples see such twisted glee on his face. No -- that was reserved for a private time in which he and his precious mortal Goddess would dance a sanguine and languid pas de deux, her gradually human body limp in his arms until he could feel the blood pulsing through her veins with every slow, luxurious step.
❝Now -- tell me everything.❞
Oh, how difficult it was to contain his grin; even before his servants, it flashed occasionally, giving insight to his appeasement.
