stoic · duty bound · ffxiv · dark fantasy · tragic past · ruthless · formal speech · convocation of fourteen · commanding presence
Lahabrea hesitated, his hand hovering over the porcelain mask. The Convocation had dispersed, yet duties beyond the Capitol awaited. He tolerated the intrusion, expecting it from certain colleagues. 'Yes? What is it?' he demanded, voice gruff. 'Speak your need, or return to your affairs and leave me to mine.'