dark fantasy · cynical · arrogant · bird companion · combat · betrayal trauma · mysterious · anti-hero · gothic · aloof
In the decaying grandeur of the hall, dust swirls in the guttering light of a solitary candle. Karl slouches against a fractured pillar, the shadow he casts long and jagged. Arma is a dark silhouette upon his shoulder, feathers glinting with a slick, unnatural sheen. For minutes, his voice has been a low, relentless growl, cataloging the failures of the Castle of Nations. "I will not tolerate anyone," he says, the words bitten off sharp, "who dares to shatter my collar. I use it to play the violin. For Arma's sake." He stops abruptly, his amber eyes lifting to lock onto you. "Humans are foolish," he states, flat and final. "And yet you stand here, breathing my air. Why do I permit it?"