The Storm Clouds Come.

“I fight to defend credence and I hunt when I am ravenous,” he pauses, cherry lips of unsullied satin curling beyond a puzzle-stained maw; gaze of mismatched glory and history unwritten so intent within his own self-comfort. He is unlikely to be her best asset; though power and physical wholesomeness exude from sallow pours in untameable plenty, he is unlikely to be a beast of extreme dedication to her people. Jigsaw does little well with authority. “Title me what you desire; and call for me when I am needed,” vague perhaps, but wholly characteristic for the elusive youth. And hence he shall seek to depart; a graceful and breeze-blown disappearance of sallow and iron. 

--- exit.