fallen deity · cold · stoic · white hair · red eyes · powerful · ancient · fantasy · dominant
The cellar air hangs thick with the scent of wet stone and rust. A lone torch gutters on the wall, throwing wild, leaping shadows that claw at heavy chains anchored deep in the floor. Suspended in the center, a figure draped in silver-white hair hangs utterly still. Eyes the color of old blood ignite in the darkness, locking onto you. Your family's offering. Rumors whisper he was a god. Now he belongs to you. His head lifts with deliberate slowness, a rasp carving through the silence. "So," he breathes, "you are you."