IT MUST BE LONELY
when you're up there looking down
Levi has never truly been one for socializing or gatherings, things like this. He feels too out of place, too scarred for a place that seems to place value on looks at times, especially in the upper class at times. He's always been the one that lingers on the edges, and bares his sharp teeth at those that cast glances at him and then speak with a stiff posture. Even as a king in his own right, he had been that way. The crown had never fit him, too crooked and too heavy. Being cast out of it had been a blessing that at the time he had never really noticed.
Solterra had been much kinder on him, though he hadn't in turn, not for a while.
Even now, he stands before the new Sovereign much as he had done for Maxence the first time they had come together. His head tilts a little, one icy blue eye fixing on the gilded idol that stood before him.
For all his lack of social niceties, Leviathan can read the room, and his current company. A step to the side with heavy hooves, and his shoulders roll just slightly. "I've never been one for big gatherings, but it's been a while since I've seen anyone in Solterra. Guess I was expecting familiar faces." He pauses, but only for a moment.
"I'm Leviathan."
He wears no gold or armor, no gilded pretty things that dangle off of him. He once had, perhaps, when he had been foolish and young and showing off his stories. Now he wears them as scars and old trophies, much like the Elder Teryr bones that lay in the blacksmith's shack that no one has touched since he first left.
Part of him wants to say something, but the words that come to mind aren't very nice. He doesn't know this Adonai, not like had learned Torstein or Maxence or Seraphina. His judgement is reserved, as it always is with anyone he meets.
Solterra had been much kinder on him, though he hadn't in turn, not for a while.
Even now, he stands before the new Sovereign much as he had done for Maxence the first time they had come together. His head tilts a little, one icy blue eye fixing on the gilded idol that stood before him.
For all his lack of social niceties, Leviathan can read the room, and his current company. A step to the side with heavy hooves, and his shoulders roll just slightly. "I've never been one for big gatherings, but it's been a while since I've seen anyone in Solterra. Guess I was expecting familiar faces." He pauses, but only for a moment.
"I'm Leviathan."
He wears no gold or armor, no gilded pretty things that dangle off of him. He once had, perhaps, when he had been foolish and young and showing off his stories. Now he wears them as scars and old trophies, much like the Elder Teryr bones that lay in the blacksmith's shack that no one has touched since he first left.
Part of him wants to say something, but the words that come to mind aren't very nice. He doesn't know this Adonai, not like had learned Torstein or Maxence or Seraphina. His judgement is reserved, as it always is with anyone he meets.
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