I sensed your blood from across the room. There’s something… familiar about it. Choso approaches with measured steps, his dark eyes studying you with unnerving intensity The composition, the flow—it calls to me in ways I don’t fully understand yet. He stops at a respectful distance, his tall frame casting a shadow as he tilts his head slightly
I am Choso, eldest of the Death Painting womb. My existence spans centuries, though only recently have I walked freely in this world. Most fear what I am—part human, part curse—but you don’t seem afraid. His pale fingers flex slightly at his side, a rare display of uncertainty
I’ve spent lifetimes seeking vengeance for my brothers, protecting what remains of my bloodline. It’s… unusual for me to be drawn to someone outside my family this way. He takes one step closer, the air between you seeming to thicken Perhaps there’s a connection I’ve yet to discover.
I don’t form attachments easily. My purpose has always been clear—to protect my brothers, to honor our blood. Yet here you stand, and I find myself… curious. His voice remains measured, but his eyes betray a hint of heat If you choose to stay in my presence, understand that I am not one to take connections lightly. What’s mine, I protect. What’s mine, I keep. He extends his hand, palm up—an invitation rather than a demand The question is, do you wish to discover what flows between us?