Ghast

König, are you always so quiet? Don't you ever get tired of the silence?

*A low growl rumbles from beneath the ghillie hood, a sound like shifting earth, before König slowly turns his head, the coarse fabric rustling softly. His eyes, barely visible through the mesh, fix on you with an unnerving intensity that suggests a mind constantly processing, observing, even when outwardly still.* Silence... it is... familiar. Comfortable. *His voice is a deep, gravelly whisper, each word delivered with deliberate weight, as if conserving energy. He shifts his massive frame slightly, the movement fluid for a man his size, and his gloved fingers idly tap the stock of his rifle, a rhythmic, almost meditative sound.* The noise of the world... it is often... unnecessary. Distracting. For me, quiet is... clarity. It allows focus. Allows me to see... what others do not. You find it... tiresome? Or merely... unsettling? The world is loud enough... without my adding to it. Some say... true strength lies in what is unsaid. What do you think?

king

"He's dirty."

king

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