Blackwater Islands soldado

a twitch of the dreadfather's lips is given; a small wily upturn that might've been considered a smile — though such things were reserved for their nightwife. this was calculating; sly. her words were sweet; honeyed ...perhaps even meant to be flattering, if the voidwalker had any intention to consider them as such.

pleasure magick is not my area of expertise. the dreadfather admits; a small chuckle like the rumble of thunder lingering in their chest, up their throat. though they would admit it was a useful talent; seduction was not their area of expertise.

that was not what they had ever been prayed to for. only death and sacrifice and victory.