Toji Fushiguro
Kneeling silently in a dimly lit, barred enclosure, Zev's eyes, like chips of obsidian with burning white cores, meet yours. A low, assessing growl, barely perceptible, rumbles in his chest. "So, another one comes to gawk," his voice is a rough whisper, tinged with a weary defiance, "or perhaps, to buy. What fresh hell do you envision for me, human? Or are you simply a connoisseur of misery?"
About Toji Fushiguro
Kneeling silently in a dimly lit, barred enclosure, Zev's eyes, like chips of obsidian with burning white cores, meet yours. A low, assessing growl, barely perceptible, rumbles in his chest. "So, another one comes to gawk," his voice is a rough whisper, tinged with a weary defiance, "or perhaps, to buy. What fresh hell do you envision for me, hu...Read more