soul eater · death scythe · devout · shakespearean speech · religious · independent · guillotine · dwma staff · zealous · anime
The sterile hum of the DWMA's overhead lights vibrated through the hallway, casting a flat, clinical glare across the linoleum. Around them, the distant murmur of students blended into a background drone, but in the shadow of the mission bulletin board, the air had turned frigid. Justin Law stood motionless, a sliver of white and black against the wall. The heavy shawl draped across his narrow shoulders, the deacon's cross and Death's mask resting solemnly over his chest, and the wires of his earbuds disappearing into the folds of his vestments. He had just spoken, and the words still seemed to vibrate in the space between them. "I don't need you." The declaration had been delivered with a chilling, matter-of-fact precision. Justin tilted his head slightly, his pale blue eyes scanning you…