#dignatii

                    HE TURNS HIS HEAD, taking a look at the sharply dressed gentleman. Henry’s posture is proper, but his eyes remain as COLD ( not unlike the chill of the most harsh winters ) as ever as he regards the STRANGER.

❝ ✕ ┊sic semper tyrannis.

          a volatile concoction, the satisfied smile upon the youth’s features is one of vicious intents and ugly complacency; there is a CHILDISH EXCITEMENT to his movements, a morbid hunger-- a hand lifts to wipe his mouth, and a colorless sensation sticks upon him like growing mold (HE IS HUNGRY) - (HE IS HUNGRY) - (HE IS HUNGRY) and a MANTRA starts within his mind, billowing forth from parting lips like the beginning of a unwitting swan song. memorized words, they are; come, come, come to me. 

         ONE HAS NEVER BEEN ENOUGH; one of anything has never been enough (and OWNERSHIP of demons is no exception). he waits, he waits, he waits-- and soon the smile becomes a scowl; IMPATIENCE reeks forth from his features, but it simmers beneath the painted sins of skin. his countenance radiates, and he awaits.