[Douman holds Fandaniel's gaze, the shadows behind his mask swirling and dissipating just right to display an eye that's the color of freshly-spilled blood and the another that's just wrong. For a moment the true extent of Douman's wounded eye can be seen, in all its glory of something that's marked by all the natural forces of existence as something that's to be rejected by them and that has turned into something warped and different in return. There's still energy crackling and burning away on it, countered by his own curses that force together what other wants apart. The glowing sigil Fandaniel saw during their last fight wasn't a sign of activation, but the scant show of a few stray embers on top of a hidden underground inferno that hasn't stopped burning in the last one-thousand years. Neither of his pupils are fully human round, either.
The look in both eyes is equally unreadable.]
Nonsense. The one telling the story decides how to distribute the roles, don't confuse that with actual history.
[But he doesn't deny it. In a way, he is. The biggest villain of a story so old that most dismiss it as a mere fairy tale, cursed to an eternal life because he refuses to be satisfied with a half-assed win.]
no subject
The look in both eyes is equally unreadable.]
Nonsense. The one telling the story decides how to distribute the roles, don't confuse that with actual history.
[But he doesn't deny it. In a way, he is. The biggest villain of a story so old that most dismiss it as a mere fairy tale, cursed to an eternal life because he refuses to be satisfied with a half-assed win.]