First a god and a King, then a mass murderer. What an astonishing list of titles you have under your belt.
Well, provided that all of what you're saying is the truth. [ At over seven feet, J doesn't merely lean against the opposing end of the elevator's interior, he engulfs it in full. But despite his imposing height in such a cramped interior, with his arms crossed across a broad chest and head tilted slightly to one side in thought, he appears entirely at ease with his present entrapment. ]
Did being cursed drag you down so low that you now react to a retelling of your crimes like a victim of them, rather than the villain of this story? [ The question J casts out between them lands with the air of speaking on the weather, his demeanor unruffled even in the face of a supposed immortal who ruled a people that suffered only death and catastrophe at his hand.
As if fearless of offending this genocidal being or encroaching on his personal space, pale wings idly spread out in a lazy stretch, barely concerned if they happen to brush against the other occupant trapped in here. But the look in J's eyes isn't so relaxed. Hawkish in their fixed gaze, they stare upon Seth's wrist with near fascination. The way nails scrape against the gems there initially draws his curiosity, but it's what he senses the stones to be that draws his interest like blood in the water.
The painting doesn't immediately pose any further demands for the demon to contribute. The portrait within gives him a moment as its unsettling eyes swivel from J then back again to the one clawing at his hand, sensing that the demon has picked up on a wound it would love to see torn into until it's left raw and weeping. ]
Elevator: B ( cw: mentions of genocide, death. )
Well, provided that all of what you're saying is the truth. [ At over seven feet, J doesn't merely lean against the opposing end of the elevator's interior, he engulfs it in full. But despite his imposing height in such a cramped interior, with his arms crossed across a broad chest and head tilted slightly to one side in thought, he appears entirely at ease with his present entrapment. ]
Did being cursed drag you down so low that you now react to a retelling of your crimes like a victim of them, rather than the villain of this story? [ The question J casts out between them lands with the air of speaking on the weather, his demeanor unruffled even in the face of a supposed immortal who ruled a people that suffered only death and catastrophe at his hand.
As if fearless of offending this genocidal being or encroaching on his personal space, pale wings idly spread out in a lazy stretch, barely concerned if they happen to brush against the other occupant trapped in here. But the look in J's eyes isn't so relaxed. Hawkish in their fixed gaze, they stare upon Seth's wrist with near fascination. The way nails scrape against the gems there initially draws his curiosity, but it's what he senses the stones to be that draws his interest like blood in the water.
The painting doesn't immediately pose any further demands for the demon to contribute. The portrait within gives him a moment as its unsettling eyes swivel from J then back again to the one clawing at his hand, sensing that the demon has picked up on a wound it would love to see torn into until it's left raw and weeping. ]