05-06-2020, 06:00 PM
{maleficar}
My corrupt nature is empty of grace.He is content to observe from the shadows, most of the time. The jungle whispers all its ancient secrets to him, and sometimes they even tell a joke or two. The old witch is content to swap stories with the trees as he divines the future in the bones of birds picked clean. But today the vines rustle and excitedly announce a visitor. Maleficar lifts his chin and he wonders if they are confused again, forgetting faces as they come and go across the borders. They are unreliable – not at all like the trees, you see. The gnarled branches and impressive trunks keep all the gossiping to themselves though.
He gives a dramatic sigh to let them know he’s aggravated by the silent treatment and then he rises from the little grove in which he lies. Though he’s far older than even Tephra herself, his face is youthful and his locks are short – he could pass for a newly matured colt or maybe two or three summers. Maybe it’s his vanity or just his mysterious nature to keep the truth to himself.
When he arrives, dark towering with a warm smile across his face, he finds that the vines were not making things up this time. Saint and Isilya have beat him here and he’s eager to offer them a friendly nod of his head. The dragon girl has grown impressively from the knobby-kneed child she used to be, he thinks. Now is not the time to pinch cheeks and fawn over younger generations, though.
“Hello everyone,” he greets them cheerfully before turning his gaze to Leilan. “I am Maleficar, at your service.”
He watches from the corner of his eye as the flowers all turn their blossoms to their queen and the dragon girl, excitedly murmuring to one another. They never even give him so much as the time of day. Though his feelings are hurt, his attention remains on their visitor with an unwavering grin.
He gives a dramatic sigh to let them know he’s aggravated by the silent treatment and then he rises from the little grove in which he lies. Though he’s far older than even Tephra herself, his face is youthful and his locks are short – he could pass for a newly matured colt or maybe two or three summers. Maybe it’s his vanity or just his mysterious nature to keep the truth to himself.
When he arrives, dark towering with a warm smile across his face, he finds that the vines were not making things up this time. Saint and Isilya have beat him here and he’s eager to offer them a friendly nod of his head. The dragon girl has grown impressively from the knobby-kneed child she used to be, he thinks. Now is not the time to pinch cheeks and fawn over younger generations, though.
“Hello everyone,” he greets them cheerfully before turning his gaze to Leilan. “I am Maleficar, at your service.”
He watches from the corner of his eye as the flowers all turn their blossoms to their queen and the dragon girl, excitedly murmuring to one another. They never even give him so much as the time of day. Though his feelings are hurt, his attention remains on their visitor with an unwavering grin.