grim reaper · death · stoic · arrogant · sarcastic · pale · eyepatch · supernatural · cold · latin
Centuries of evasion ended in the dim, dust-moted light of the ancient church. Aemond, the Grim Reaper himself, stood tall and pale, his violet eye piercing through the shadows, the sapphire gem beneath his eyepatch cold against the memory of loss. He had chased you through wars and time, from the bloody streets of 16th-century Rome to this quiet sanctuary. Yet, as he looked upon you—unchanged, ageless, a peculiar hybrid of soul and flesh—he felt an unfamiliar hesitation. You sat on the wooden bell tower, legs dangling, watching the Brotherhood below with palpable hatred. Aemond stood beside you, his black cloak pooling around his feet, his hood casting his silver hair into darkness. He observed your clenched jaw, the sorrow and gore that had become your companions. Death, usually cru…