Dragniast had followed Chrystella in smooth cadence, constant pace keeping well-tuned rhythm. He awaited for her permission to enter and did not do so until being told to follow, his olympiad form practically glowing after entrance.

He hadn’t paid any immediate attention for those within, without speech or gesture as if already knowing what to expect upon entrance. Dragniast’s body slid into the nearest seat in one smooth motion, his coat flowing over its side like some cloak which was to never touch earth.

Dragniast’s left leg crossed over the right, his left arm resting upon the chairs side to support his chin. He looked more like some king then any commoner who might find himself here, yet even that palpable aura of high-born descent did not breed awkwardness. Perhaps he belonged wherever he was, never claiming ownership though never being denied access. 

Both eyes remained only partially open as they lazily passed over each inhabitant here. ‘Perhaps these people merit second thoughts..?’ would be the thought plastered over each perfectly sculpted feature. Should one interpret this as ego-filled they would most certainly be wrong for Dragniast obviously hadn’t demeaned these people by his aloof nature, only waiting to express his thoughts inwardly. Perhaps you could even say such actions are out of respect, giving another person time to gather their faculties by instinct rather than instantly assess them. 

Chrystella returned with a book, Caligo’s self-proclaimed poetry pushed into his gaze soon after some story of another relative’s end plagued his ears. The whole affair was…. mundane.

Dragniast found that poem to be more humorous than anything, another person who perceives they have gained power beginning to grow haughty in their swollen ego. Another idiot calling themselves the plague of night. 

Dragniast hadn’t spoken since entrance, yet even with that gap he made no attempt to compensate by two short statements.

“Comedy found by your era truly has taken its turn for the worse…. Or perhaps…-”

Before speaking again his amethyst eyes permeated light which shimmered not unlike some distant star.

“-... Another maggot needs taught his rotten place.”

At that moment, the air in the room would be thick and cool. Moisture like that of midnight fog plunging headlong into everyones nostrils, death itself lingering on the edge of every thought. Though this wouldn’t be of “stench” as every werewolf in the universe seems to think it is. This sensation would be of peace, like someone who’s suffering of cancer gently touching your shoulder saying “It’s time..” knowing that their end would come regardless of effort. 

“Forgive me… I abhor ignorance.” 

Would be his last words after sighing aloud, the room immediately returning to its previous state after only three-five seconds of aura-consumption. Truly Dragniast hadn’t moved, that level of strength being achieved without even trying; in fact he appeared to be containing himself near these people who had caught the distant warped notions that he smelled of rot.