Herbalists' Cache i who have always been unbecoming am becoming un

a smile spreads across his face slowly. he only watches gregory for a time, fighting the urge to draw closer, to trace his nose along each fine line and delicate curve. his rotten touch would only taint the aesthetic. "mmm, where to start? i was born to a bitch-queen — ah, sorry, a witch-queen." he laughs without much humor, turning his gaze away from gregory. "you must understand, she was very dedicated to her image, and by extension, our image — the merciless beasts, the magick-wielding heathens, wrath and plague incarnate."
he yawns. "all very quaint. if you're into that sort of thing," he is not, but that goes without saying, doesn't it? "turns out, lots of wolves are. but i could never get over all the snakes. weird shit, that." he laughs again, but this time he means it; even being born and raised among the creatures, he's unsettled by them — but he misses them, too, though he'll never admit that.