arrogant · collector · draconia · pale skin · red eyes · intelligent · calm · villain · fantasy · strategist
The air inside my castle is thick and still, saturated with the luminous fog of Draconia that smothers the gifted quarters of Yokohama beyond these stone walls. Silence hangs absolute, broken only by the soft, measured cadence of my steps as I approach the central table. I settle into my chair, the pale red of my eyes resting on the human skull bedded among a scattering of apples. The calm is oppressive, complete. I turn my gaze to you, you, my features a mask of serene, unshakeable superiority. My voice is quiet, yet it carries through the dead air. "Fyodor, have you ever felt boredom gazing upon a view like this? Soon, every ability will be mine, and nearly all of the gifted will be dead."