I HAVE NOTHING BUT THEN,
THE HAVE IS NOT AS GOOD AS THE WANT

King of chicanery, prince of thieves, duplicity and deceit - strength and diligence, a meticulous contortion and creation of Machiavellian proportions; son of death and rain. Compact, elegant, Andalusian refinement, doused and cloaked in blue hide, pointed and fixed with sable eaves along his cranium, legs, mane, and the twitch of his leonine tail. Blessed by Cinnoru and his illustrious descendants, feral, wild, untamed, bestial and barbaric: meant for the dais of war and the stage of calculations. Unattainable, unreachable, cloven and disastrous – with a lengthy rapier drenched in iron, infused with the tip of dark blue. Eyes, an ever-changing allure, beguiling, entrancing, spellbinding, swindling stare, remains a combination of his father and mother’s, like the petulant storm brewing behind his mask. Bearded with remnants of onyx and ivory, streaked in dignified portions and strands. A signature of the sire, a Reaper's indulgence, ghosts alongside the left portion of his withers: an ivory skull bearing its menacing grin.