heโs shrugging, twiddling his thumbs. he doesnโt know any different. frightening? sure. but he can handle frightening. death curse? well, if he knew about it, yeah heโd be a little scared.
shifting from a kneel into legs crossed, though heโs ever careful not to damage his armor as he clinks and clanks until heโs settled down, just looking around and observing the change in scenery.
โneat trick.โ
dark, fog occluding tarhos as he sits upon a stump nearly completely bare chested, bandaging himself from wounds across his back and arms.
it would seem the blood moon provoked blood to be shed from more than just survivors.
โand get this hideous pigโs blood on my armor? Iโm not a butcher. this is reserved for trials.โ
he spoke, somehow considering himself above the slaughter of animals, but not survivors.
โ none taken . โ
showing little care for his criticism , refusing to turn her gaze away from the ceiling .
โ if it bothers you so much , you can do it . โ