act iv:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lies are the the one thing she knows like someone holy knows their god, it is a part of her she cannot touch but can always feel.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so, considering such, all the can do is sigh‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(something that borders on boredom, created from the stripping of half of her soul, strewn in the wind that whispers his name when she listens close enough).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎its not @omargaret's fault she seems disinterested: its the fault of something deeper.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" you are not the first, you will not be the last. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎one leg bends over the other, creating a line from her head to the very curve of her heel,‎ and just after that she's still as can be, staring, purposefully unblinking and uneasy‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(there's the slightest of pleasure that comes with such control).

WHAT A WRETCHED THING, PARTING A CHILD FROM THEIR MOTHER ! but damien is 𝖓𝖔 child of this woman, HE IS THE CHILD OF THE JACKAL ; born from the womb of a beast ... at least, that was what the man was lead to believe— told by both fabricated scripture & the clever tongues of those that MANIPULATED THE MANIPULATOR. narrowing coal 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 eyes, so unlike the woman's before him & so like the father who reigns the fiendish plains below, he appears on edge.

he is on edge.

everything about him recognizes 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 in the woman before him when it should not, and red flags are raised ; the prickle of power ebbing from the pale panes of his skin in warning. harm and be harmed, leave now and you MIGHT YET SURVIVE.