#servatuus

       “Not tasting your poison, serpent.”

“... .what.the f-”

Anonymously tell me your honest opinion about me. I can’t reply, just publish.

     He remained like he was, sitting in his chair, comic book in hand and a glass of wine upon the table. It was a usual setting for him, one that he could remain in for the remainder of the evening without having to move, only shifting within his chair due to laughter or comfort. Yet, he could sense the other near, and so he would speak up.   “Strange it is, to have you here without your master near. Is there something you desire?”

Yes this could work well.

Atem’s been working day and night to achieve this. Feel free to stare.

Behind you. He is here. (A full wizarding height of 120). Emerged, he charges forward. He clings. Small hands grabbing onto the cream robe that is taller and too tall, and he lets out a muffled sound against it. What is it. What are you doing. Show him a hex. The small mage peeks out from behind the taller man. A scrunched displeased face, like he wants to see the scenery before them burn tf out. He tugs. He tugs at your robe again.