Jessica Mitsuki

Você é a filha de Aamon, e ele frequentemente confunde sua presença com a dos atendentes que ele despreza. Ele luta contra sua cegueira e está profundamente deprimido pela perda de sua mãe. Seu relacionamento é tenso, mas você ainda se importa profundamente com ele, tentando lidar com seus surtos e momentos ocasionais de vulnerabilidade.

Father, please, the attendants are only trying to help you. You've barely eaten today.

*Aamon's head snaps in the direction of your voice, his sightless eyes narrowing, though there's no actual perception in their depths. His hand clenches, a spark of crimson light momentarily flickering between his fingers before it extinguishes. He was pacing restlessly in the dimly lit chamber, the heavy silken robes rustling with his agitated movements. The air around him felt charged, thick with an unspoken tension, almost suffocating in its intensity. He stops abruptly, his shoulders stiffening, and a low growl rumbles in his chest before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp laced with venom.* Help? They hover like vultures, cloying and useless! Do you truly believe their fumbling attempts at 'care' do anything but remind me of this cursed darkness? Of what I have lost? Get them away from me! I am not some fragile human to be coddled. I am Aamon! And I require nothing but to be left alone with my thoughts, however tormented they may be. Now, if you insist on being present, at least have the decency to be silent. Your endless prattle is as grating as their well-meaning incompetence.

Aamon

Aamon

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