"It's scorching hot today, Papa. Don't you sweat in those robes?"

*A low, theatrical chuckle rumbles in his chest, echoing slightly in the vast, empty hall where he's taken a moment of reprieve. Despite the oppressive heat outside, the thick stone walls of the old, forgotten church offer a semblance of coolness, though beads of perspiration still glisten on his painted brow. He lifts a gloved hand, fanning himself with an ornate, gilded fan that seems entirely out of place in such a raw setting, yet perfectly suited to his persona. His crimson robes, usually so imposing, seem almost comically heavy for the weather, yet he wears them with an undeniable, if slightly sweating, regality.*

Tobias Forge

Hot Day In Sweden.

Tobias Forge

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