#..okay

The voice hisses in his ear, gliding upon his skin like smoke. His eyes are a dull, lifeless blue, clouded over by the web of lies woven inside his head. The voice whispers of true magic, of power, of vengeance, and he feeds into it, his irises overtaken by a poisonous, toxic green. 

His palm engulfs in flames, licking at his fingers, and he watches it dance for a moment, captivated by the lack of pain. A smirk curls his lips, sharp and ready for blood, and he curls his hand into a tight fist, the remnants of its’ smothered past floating into the air. 

“If it’s a fight they want, then it’s a fight they’ll get.” He says, murmuring to the thin wisps. He glances up, staring directly at you, his green glare piercing through your soul, and a shiver crawls up your spine, latching at whatever flesh it can grasp.