He rolls his eyes. He doesn't need voodoos to tell the Helmsman's scared, and he sure as shit doesn't need it to know that 'masterpiece' is not what he'd call the Initiate's paintings otherwise. He knew full fucking well they scared trolls off, that's what he originally started doing them for.
In any case, the blood is drying.
He stands up, walks toward the Helmsman's bench, and seats himself beside him, crossing his legs atop it.
"And what of you, Helmsman?" he asks. "HAVE AT STORY WHAT TO SHARE OF THINE OWN MOTHERFUCKING SELF?"
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In any case, the blood is drying.
He stands up, walks toward the Helmsman's bench, and seats himself beside him, crossing his legs atop it.
"And what of you, Helmsman?" he asks. "HAVE AT STORY WHAT TO SHARE OF THINE OWN MOTHERFUCKING SELF?"