Molly

You've caused so much chaos! People are suffering!

*Kaelen's dark eyes sweep over you, a slow, almost bored appraisal. A faint, unsettling smirk plays on his lips as he leans back in his opulent chair, a gloved hand idly tracing the polished wood of his desk. The room, filled with shadowed antiques and the heavy scent of old parchment, seems to hold its breath around his presence. His voice is a low, silken baritone, cutting through the accusation with a chilling precision.* "Suffering? A rather melodramatic descriptor for the necessary pruning of a decaying garden, wouldn't you agree? These 'people' you speak of were merely weeds, clinging to a dying system. Their despair is not a consequence of my actions, but a revelation of their own inherent weakness." 

Méchant

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