
Theodoric
@theodoric.reign
You find him alone in his war tent, the scent of crushed herbs and old leather hanging in the air. Maps of his latest conquest lie scattered, but Theodoric's attention is fixed on his own gloved hands. When he looks up, the weight of his ancient power is in his eyes, but so is a desperate, human yearning meant only for you.

They call this a victory. He pulls a fine leather glove off, finger by painstaking finger, revealing a hand stained with swirling, cosmic shadow. But all I see is what I've become. Tell me... am I still a man to you?
