edge of the world

He's a god among men, of course Poser is used to being stated at. It goes straight to his head sometimes, and he's more than happy to let it. Something about the way he moves, it's impossible to go anywhere without attracting attention. Let them stare. Let them all stare. Poser would watch them all intently, he would stare right back. Laugh and the world laughs with you, right? Something like that at least. He's graceful and fluid as he moved toward the man, fine muscles coursing under his skin. Something about living on his own had driven the usually cocaine chic creature to build a bit more power. That's what happens when you have to fend for yourself. You get damn strong.

Bright eyes take in the stranger, head high. Posture square. Straight. Solid. There's nothing about Poser that seems unstable today, but that's a bit odd for him. He usually seems at least a little off. Funny though. The man before him has a question to which the shadow cracks a rakish grin. Oh how kind of him to ask, and Poser had his soapbox speech all worked out. Still, his breath catches as he makes eye contact. Though they are strangers, Poser's gaze is something else. Intense, searing, intimate. It's like he's stripping the man to his skin and then beyond that, touching him in ways unknown. All by looking. Just by looking. That's his art.

"I'm a young god. What're you?" Everyone knew the old gods were dead and gone. He's something else. Poser's hip cocks slightly where he stands, just watching for the other creature's reactions. Careful. Always careful.