Male
8
Dez enjoyed when the temperature dropped since it gave him excuse to wrap himself in warm skins and furs. There wasn't anything quite like being able to walk around while enveloped in another body. It put Dez in an exceptionally good mood and gave him a comforting sense of safety. Truthfully, the relationship between Desmond and furs was similar to the kind which develops between a small child and their favorite blanket.
Someone who he viewed as an older brother was supposed to be coming to the city within the next few days, thus Dez had begun to distance himself from his work at the brothel so that he would have more time to prepare for his arrival.
At this particular moment, he didn't have anything specific he needed to do, so he decided to walk through the famed gardens of Lilla. They were mostly abandoned at this time of year since the majority of the flowers had wilted from the chill. The whole place held an aura of silent, stagnant death, but that was quite beautiful in Dez's eyes.
Crouching by the edge of the path, he brushed his fingers over the dead foliage, dried and crinkled like old parchment. What must their death feel like, he wondered. Was it quick and dynamic, veiled by its unmoving form, or did their bodies falter piece by piece? The youngest of the Colorless Clan lost himself in thought as he crumbled the remains of a leaf between his fingers.
ooc: behold /o/ a post is made
Someone who he viewed as an older brother was supposed to be coming to the city within the next few days, thus Dez had begun to distance himself from his work at the brothel so that he would have more time to prepare for his arrival.
At this particular moment, he didn't have anything specific he needed to do, so he decided to walk through the famed gardens of Lilla. They were mostly abandoned at this time of year since the majority of the flowers had wilted from the chill. The whole place held an aura of silent, stagnant death, but that was quite beautiful in Dez's eyes.
Crouching by the edge of the path, he brushed his fingers over the dead foliage, dried and crinkled like old parchment. What must their death feel like, he wondered. Was it quick and dynamic, veiled by its unmoving form, or did their bodies falter piece by piece? The youngest of the Colorless Clan lost himself in thought as he crumbled the remains of a leaf between his fingers.
ooc: behold /o/ a post is made
