www.blackandthemoon.com
:: A shard of his crown is all that remains. ::
💠
:: A shard of his crown is all that remains. ::
💠
:: At the sight of the Underworld’s avatar, he’d begun to draw the blade from its scabbard, but as the word reverbates from her mouth, time slips and slows. ::
You—
:: He is held in place, his form shuddering into and out of coherence. ::
:: At the sight of the Underworld’s avatar, he’d begun to draw the blade from its scabbard, but as the word reverbates from her mouth, time slips and slows. ::
You—
:: He is held in place, his form shuddering into and out of coherence. ::
:: He touches a finger lightly to the sword scarred into his brow, his other hand resting on the hilt at his side. ::
Protection only comes through order. And order only comes through the crown and the blade. All else is chaos.
:: His grip tightens. His shoulders tense. ::
:: He touches a finger lightly to the sword scarred into his brow, his other hand resting on the hilt at his side. ::
Protection only comes through order. And order only comes through the crown and the blade. All else is chaos.
:: His grip tightens. His shoulders tense. ::