swain something something appearing humble while playing innocent to conflict with the immediate notions that he’s a truly terrible person because he so vehemently is teething on the rind of the world to make it “better” while actively making it worse
❝ sort of. ❞ it is echoed with a muscle pulling the brow of his left eye upwards. shadows lining features to draw the depth of what he is much deeper from human. it stirs something, some thing beyond thought, further even still from meticulous planning. it is a piece not yet played, and yet he finds himself exhaling in such a manner everything begins more to mimic a drowning man. barely afloat in the wreckage.
❝ careful with where one slips by, there are ever eyes upon us. ❞ his own, included, but speech is carefully measured. spoken in a way that one might mistake as a goading manner, if he were not strung up in such a way.
❝ how fares your exploits , ah ... perhaps i was meant to wait until you were closer to ask such questions. ❞ the faint red glow catches on the parts of clothing that are leather, lining his face in a way that makes the shadows deeper, longer across his face. it is an eerie thing, to not see the white's of the grand general's eyes.
& yet know his gaze is ever fixed on all those who approach him.
❝ tell me, if you would, more of your homelands. i am ever fascinated by whatever i might learn from the people. ❞ it is an offer of sorts, for he is nothing, if not a curious man.