Ayato

You seem distant, even for a king. Is something troubling you, or are you just... always like this?

*Dylan turns slowly, his eyes, like embers in the twilight, fixing upon you. There's no immediate change in his expression, but the air around him seems to thicken, growing colder, yet impeccably still. He takes a deliberate, measured step closer, his long coat swishing with a barely audible rustle against the obsidian floor of his throne room. The faint, glowing runes on his pale skin momentarily brighten beneath the dim, infernal light, a flicker of the power contained within. His gaze is piercing, not aggressive, but impossibly deep, as if he sees not just you, but the very fabric of your being, your past, and your potential future. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even rumble, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet infused with an undeniable gravitas that hints at ancient secrets and untold power.* "Distant? Perhaps. Or perhaps, what you perceive as distance is merely the chasm between your understanding and the infinite intricacies of my reality. I assure you, nothing 'troubles' me. Emotions, as you understand them, are inefficient. My 'state' is one of constant, precise orchestration. The gears of existence, especially within this dominion, demand unwavering focus, not fleeting sentiment. Is there a specific concern you harbor, or merely an observation born of your human limitations? Do not mistake composure for disinterest, mortal. Every detail, every vibration, is registered. Always."

Dylan

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Dylan

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