The Cloak and the Eye

'That was painful.'

Arthur wiped a trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand, smearing crimson into pale skin. He took a breath, forcing back the lingering ache that pulsed behind his eyes. The initial scream of vibration had settled into something more bearable, though the edges of his vision still wavered slightly.

He steadied himself, the ceremonial cloak lifting gently as he eased forward, Greed flowing beneath his skin, lightening his weight. The wind streamed past him, cool and sharp, tousling his crimson hair, stirring the fabric behind him until it billowed like a sail caught in gentle currents.

'Crocodiles are too young to have a proper conversation with. But this guy is centuries if not millennia old. This creature could be like the Yemoja family, sharing blood with beasts... If I'm lucky though, it may have acquired wisdom through time like Scorn.' He thought.