[The owner of this office must have a fragile ego.
He flips through the photographs of his brothers—blood and celestial—and what feels like a trite amount of children before setting the folder down. Most of it's fake, while his mind is already imprinted with the images of those that are real. Next.
So the demon kid isn't a traitor, after all? Or perhaps he's a double agent. Sieghart thinks back to the staring corpse in the tent. Is the brat safe right now? There's a beat before Sieghart's nose scrunches at the thought. That's not even the real Dio, just as none of the names here means anything.
He drops the folders back into the drawer before moving cautiously toward the window, lest he be seen.]
no subject
He flips through the photographs of his brothers—blood and celestial—and what feels like a trite amount of children before setting the folder down. Most of it's fake, while his mind is already imprinted with the images of those that are real. Next.
So the demon kid isn't a traitor, after all? Or perhaps he's a double agent. Sieghart thinks back to the staring corpse in the tent. Is the brat safe right now? There's a beat before Sieghart's nose scrunches at the thought. That's not even the real Dio, just as none of the names here means anything.
He drops the folders back into the drawer before moving cautiously toward the window, lest he be seen.]