Green baron grip. Finger by finger wrapped around the helm of a sailor’s helm. Crackled skin and dirty fingernails. Obey the beckoning. Do not resist the color you feel ‘ought’ to stand before you.

His cape violently withers in the black wind, his feet standing strong as we pan around him. His eyes are made of bronzed asphalt. Tears made of ocean souls. Corrupt is the city of unborn gods. Yet this is where he is called, this is where he must stand.