He'd been the same way. Didn't end up too well for him, either. [He pins something under the toe of his boot (a shred of tumbling paper, the plate off a car that no longer had a use for it), and the Sin's teeth set together. The trap of them more similar to an old cage of rusted iron, snapping vehemently shut.] They're no different, really. The self-righteous sort. Lucky for us, they don't usually see it coming until it's too late.
[Meaning, he has experience in some sense. His Father had been almost an exact parallel. He also thought nothing could touch him, no one could scratch him, and in the end, well.]
[Greed slides his claws down his thighs (wanting, craving, hungry), and a heat burns back on his palms. The start of a fire, eager to ignite.]
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[Meaning, he has experience in some sense. His Father had been almost an exact parallel. He also thought nothing could touch him, no one could scratch him, and in the end, well.]
[Greed slides his claws down his thighs (wanting, craving, hungry), and a heat burns back on his palms. The start of a fire, eager to ignite.]
Dwarves in their flasks, Shar. They never change.