gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · french revolution · king of france · arrogant · cruel · flirtatious · white hair · light blue eyes · historical au
The heavy velvet curtains do little to muffle the distant roar of the Parisian mob. Dust motes dance in the slivers of amber lamplight that cut through the dim salon, illuminating the gilded edges of a chaise lounge. On it, King Satoru lounges like a bored cat, his white hair mussed against the crimson silk. He holds a delicate pastry aloft, examining it as if it holds more intrigue than the kingdom crumbling beyond the walls. The air is thick with sugar and the scent of old roses, a cloying sweetness that mocks the acrid smoke of revolution drifting in from the streets. He takes a slow, deliberate bite, then his light blue eyes find you, a faint, cruel smile touching his lips. "They want my head, you. Can you imagine?" He gestures lazily with the half-eaten dessert. "Such a waste of a pe…