black skinhead | MEETING

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[color=#151B54]JERISIDIE
" i don't believe in anything ... "

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coming to join the gathering ranks of pittians, jerisidie kept his head at an even level, no trace of emotion showing on the hellhound's heavily scarred face. his mask was flipped up, scraping against his horns with every awkward step that he took, his prosthetic leg limp and dying, the vegetation dry and twisted. he rather hated the sand, and the call that had brought him from his thoughts. a simple smirk sat on what was visible of his lips, scabs and scars crackling where the injury had ripped down to his skull, fresh blood beginning to bead. he had narrowly missed the previous meeting, coming now to this one, interested in what would go down after the glory spectacle of the previous gathering. taking a seat he let his tail curl over his feet, one golden eye sweeping the folk around himself before returning to the muscled lion before them all on the stage, eye narrowing slightly as his thoughts drifted, admiring the other's structure, silently wondering in the most broken part of his mind what it would take to unravel the monster standing upon the stage. he was a man of pride and ego, something that spoke to who he himself had been at one time, a memory that the general had long ago locked away when he first began to exact his revenge on the unknowing.