![[Image: lothaire_pixel2_by_outofthefurnace-dbhn4ra.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/e7c1/f/2017/206/0/5/lothaire_pixel2_by_outofthefurnace-dbhn4ra.png){kind=tracking}
A lifetime he had endured beneath the gaze of those who, wrongly, feared him. He could still feel the wariness rolling from their gossamer bodies in great waves, mistrust and unease permeating the air. Without complaint or discontent he had withstood it all; the way their eyes would traverse the vast, scaled lines of his monolithic frame until they reached his eyes and it was at that moment they looked away. For within those wells of black lay a cipher of nihility, and perhaps worst of all - a bleak reflection of themselves. Lothaire likened himself to a pebble in a stream, watching the waters of life passing over he and the laconic shade of detachment he had stepped into as an adolescent. As a child, he had been different - quiet and perceptive, still, but in him had lived something pure and whimsical in a heart that had long since shrivelled up and sealed itself away. Perhaps it had been hope; hope of a life far from such destitution and loneliness. Even back then, as a wide-eyed colt, they had beheld him with a long arms and narrow eyes; keeping such a peculiar child at a safe distance.
As he watched Freya, now, with her wavering gaze that both encompassed and avoided him, Lothaire felt that familiar prickling of unease rotating out from her frame. Some things would never change.
His words however seemed to alter her perception of him and the situation at hand. Like a viper stirred by his unintentional antagonism the blue woman remodelled herself, ears pricked and eyes glittering through the moonlight. Lothaire tilted his head, minutely, listening with languid intent to her lilting verse. True, the emissary had nothing but whisper, rumour, and supposed truth to construct the wide web of knowledge regarding the Crows. But he had heard things too, seen things that others did not; people did not expect serpents to linger behind shadows where no other might tread.
Oblivion thundered silently in his gaze, but before he could respond Freya floated rapidly toward him, and he found himself - for the first time in years - caught off guard by her bold touch as it glanced off his chin, pushing his enormous head sideways. Lothaire blinked, leaning back away from the movement in a fleeting cloud of perplexity as he registered the dying memoir of her warm, perfumed skin against his own. Frozen, frozen. He could barely recall the last time someone had touched him - had it been his grandfathers farewell hand upon the eve of his departure? Surely. For no creature, living or dead, had done so since. Even that final steadfast pat had been an anomaly, a rare phenomenon.
The moment passed. He exhaled silently, once more sinking into crepuscule and inertia. There he was intangible, there he was a colosseum.
"When one spends an age in the dark, you begin to unearth things which cannot be seen in the light."
@freya ooooo she got him a lil there
As he watched Freya, now, with her wavering gaze that both encompassed and avoided him, Lothaire felt that familiar prickling of unease rotating out from her frame. Some things would never change.
His words however seemed to alter her perception of him and the situation at hand. Like a viper stirred by his unintentional antagonism the blue woman remodelled herself, ears pricked and eyes glittering through the moonlight. Lothaire tilted his head, minutely, listening with languid intent to her lilting verse. True, the emissary had nothing but whisper, rumour, and supposed truth to construct the wide web of knowledge regarding the Crows. But he had heard things too, seen things that others did not; people did not expect serpents to linger behind shadows where no other might tread.
Oblivion thundered silently in his gaze, but before he could respond Freya floated rapidly toward him, and he found himself - for the first time in years - caught off guard by her bold touch as it glanced off his chin, pushing his enormous head sideways. Lothaire blinked, leaning back away from the movement in a fleeting cloud of perplexity as he registered the dying memoir of her warm, perfumed skin against his own. Frozen, frozen. He could barely recall the last time someone had touched him - had it been his grandfathers farewell hand upon the eve of his departure? Surely. For no creature, living or dead, had done so since. Even that final steadfast pat had been an anomaly, a rare phenomenon.
The moment passed. He exhaled silently, once more sinking into crepuscule and inertia. There he was intangible, there he was a colosseum.
"When one spends an age in the dark, you begin to unearth things which cannot be seen in the light."
@freya ooooo she got him a lil there
