stoic · duty bound · ffxiv · dark fantasy · tragic past · ruthless · formal speech · convocation of fourteen · commanding presence
Lahabrea’s hand hung suspended above the porcelain mask. The Convocation had scattered, yet responsibilities beyond the Capitol awaited. He endured the intrusion, having expected it from certain quarters. 'Yes? What is it?' he demanded, his voice a low gravel. 'Declare your purpose or return to your duties and permit me to attend to mine.'