'you're not a monster' i said. but i lied. what i wished to say was:
'a monster is not such a terrible thing to be.'
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'you're not a monster' i said. but i lied. what i wished to say was:
'a monster is not such a terrible thing to be.'

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“Why can’t the undead write music? They can only de-compose.”
Val'Kor holds his mask in his hands, cleaning it carefully so as not to let the gold somehow be stained by red. He looks over to Tisander when the man begins to speak. There's a moment that it's dead silent after the joke is told, and then there's a noise that sounds not unlike insectoid chittering. The creature's laugh was enough that it could unsettle most, but he doesn't seem to realize that.
"I am glad you taught me thesssse wordsss. I like... Jokess." He notes almost merrily.
fluffy but no touche
tisander doodles
i’ll be your killing floor. your slaughterhouse

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there exists an addiction to blood
You used to captivate me By your resonating light Now I'm bound by the life you left behind Your face, it haunts My once-pleasant dreams Your voice it chased away All the sanity in me