Familiarity

*Poser* · 01-29-2017, 05:37 PM

Poser is small and lithe and strong. There's nothing that he wanted more than to take over the world, and even in this body he could do it. He'd do what he could with what he was given, and he'd been given... this. Handsome, quick as a whip, and more graceful than any creature he'd seen. There's something unstoppable about him. Sheer will. That's what it was, right? Sheer will and divine intervention. The young god moves in a way that can't be matched in any way, shape, or form.

A lip full of cannabis, chewing away at the buds, and easy feet against the ground. He'd come to Boreas, following the warmer weather. Poser's castle had been taken over, and he'd need an army to get it back. He'd need to reach out and wrap his hands around the neck of the man that had taken it from him, and he'd need a force to do that. Choke them out. There became time of course, when it was time to spit on your hands, raise the black flag, and begin slitting throats. That seemed easy enough, in the mind of the young god. Seemed easy. Always.

He is easy. In his mind, everything will come together just as he needs it to. Idea, you see, is much easier than practice. Head high and eyes bright, he moves to sit atop a hill and scheme. Sit atop a hill and look. Seek. Search for all the things that would bring him joy. Look for his army. Find someone to pass his time. Graceful as ever, a dark smudge against a bright spring day. That's when he hears her.

An easy jog and a high head, eyes soft on the crying woman. He could be soft. He was capable. "Oh my dear what's wrong?" The soft Russian lilt, the ears folded carefully back against his head-- concern. The healer did not smell blood, but she was... hurting. She was hurting, but it may not have been physical. Even for the mental things... well... Poser had all the herbs for that too. Gently, he keeps his distance, and he waits.
your charged touch
poser
breathy way of saying my name

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