each step in his gait holds purpose like lion stalking prey. air around him hums with the faintest trickle of authority cloaked in flesh. lips, a thin line, twist into a polite smile, although something cold lingers in those calm eyes. calculating yet withdrawn.
"you see right through me then——how lovely. you'd be correct, though, i'm far from my home, yet willing." it's a light laugh that leaves him but there's a hint of a growl. a tick rather than aggression. "and with whose eyes do you see these truths? God's, perhaps?"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤstarter. | @amcssing
There is something, in them ALL, that aligned with the stars. Those beings, borne of something greater than the fragility of man. She knows not, weather to bow her head, or keep chin high — for, whomever this was, they were certainly not from her home.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❝ ... Are you not a bit far from home, ser ? ❞
if there's any canon divergence on this blog it's that Martin tore Christopher Plover apart piece by piece. the end.
At the far end of the street, on my side, was the silhouette of a man, dancing. It was a strange dance, similar to a waltz, but he finished each “box” with an odd forward stride. I guess you could say he was dance-walking, headed straight for me.
[…] He was very tall and lanky, and wearing an old suit. He danced closer still, until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, head tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile.
— The Smiling Man
thane's blood is a bit gold reflecting is godly half but it's mostly red. so, think crimson w/ golden flecks. the gold concentrates itself a lot in his scars and such, kintsugi style.
i need to keep a little sticky on my desk that reminds me which muses are cheesy dumb flirts and which ones are clever they blur
i'm slowly building my reading list so i can get muse inspo and i love books
thane has been cursed to feel and suppress the negative emotions of others. he takes away their sadness, rage, etc and, in turn, takes those feelings upon himself. this ability's reach is extensive enough to at least blanket his kingdom. with practice, he's managed to dull the effect it has on him as a testament to his mental strength. it takes a lot to muster his response, whether it's pain or sadness. keeping himself from being swept up by the tides of feelings flooding him takes consistent effort. in a sense, he suffers from his curse himself, stripped of his feelings — struggling to discern himself from where others begin. despite knowing the sadness of countless beings, his ability to empathize with them is lacking.
he prefers to avoid violence, given he can feel what its victims do. although far from a pacifist. to make things in line with his vision of the greater good, he'll gladly bear arms and use threats and violence. in the modern day, to match the times, he's much more forgiving. they were a warrior before they were a king and the battlefield was their first home. sometimes, it still calls to him, even if he's denied its previous comfort. he's averse to killing if only because he can find use for people he spares ( and avoid feeling the pains of their demise. )
to those within range of his curse, some things narratively that could occur: a very faint sense of elation, a bit of a fogginess to their thoughts about pressing matters, a struggle to muster up the drive for aggression, the fade of pain from injuries, etc. it's still present, like regarding those feelings through glass, for lack of better words. you know you should be angry, hurt, etc. but connecting with yourself takes a bit more effort.