Joseph Hodgeson's Story

Joseph Hodgeson, The l
"You must call me King."
My Patience: ██████████32%

King's eyes watched Kisa eerily. He once stood by Alistair, however his appearance flickered like an old lightbulb and his body disappeared. To those with bewildered expressions that started to look around, they would find him sitting on the countertop beside Kisa. King inhaled the dry, brittle scent of burnt dough. This pricked his nerve. There was nothing worse than burnt food. As King turned his eyes upon Kisa again, his lips spread into a malicious grin. She got the message. He could feel what she felt, he could see what she saw, hear what she heard. He could feel all the little heartbeats in the room. 'So easily they could all just die...' The golden flecks within his brown eyes began to shimmer. As fast as the effect grew, it stopped abruptly.

This felt uncomfortable. King was disturbed with his great power and forced it to dim down. He caught onto reality and found that the slave was holding out a burnt cookie to him. He went into a silent fit of rage, swatting the cookie and spatula so they fell to the floor and grabbed her chin with one powerful hand. King's whole body shook violently. His mouth opened as if he was trying to eat her soul, but instead all of his teeth grew into long pointed daggers. Damn it all. He forced himself to suck up all the wrath he wanted to dish out so badly, and shut his mouth. Then... King smiled, teeth normal, and his lip twitching.

"Thank you." King speaks slowly, his body ports to the burnt cookie that crumbled all over the floor. The cookie morphed itself back together in his touch and he held it close to his mouth. As his lips parted to bite into the cookie, the cookie blossomed in color. It appeared as if it had never been burnt and was baked perfectly. He took a taste. The cookie had potential. He nodded to the slaves, hiding his embarrassment.

"You're very kind." His teeth grind together and he forces himself to leave the room. He gives a look to Alistair. He was back in charge. No wonder his faithful servant was always in a bad mood.

Joseph Hodgeson, The l
"You must call me King."
My Patience: ██████████32%

King's eyes watched Kisa eerily. He once stood by Alistair, however his appearance flickered like an old lightbulb and his body disappeared. To those with bewildered expressions that started to look around, they would find him sitting on the countertop beside Kisa. King inhaled the dry, brittle scent of burnt dough. This pricked his nerve. There was nothing worse than burnt food. As King turned his eyes upon Kisa again, his lips spread into a malicious grin. She got the message. He could feel what she felt, he could see what she saw, hear what she heard. He could feel all the little heartbeats in the room. 'So easily they could all just die...' The golden flecks within his brown eyes began to shimmer. As fast as the effect grew, it stopped abruptly.

This felt uncomfortable. King was disturbed with his great power and forced it to dim down. He caught onto reality and found that the slave was holding out a burnt cookie to him. He went into a silent fit of rage, swatting the cookie and spatula so they fell to the floor and grabbed her chin with one powerful hand. King's whole body shook violently. His mouth opened as if he was trying to eat her soul, but instead all of his teeth grew into long pointed daggers. Damn it all. He forced himself to suck up all the wrath he wanted to dish out so badly, and shut his mouth. Then... King smiled, teeth normal, and his lip twitching.

"Thank you." King speaks slowly, his body ports to the burnt cookie that crumbled all over the floor. The cookie morphed itself back together in his touch and he held it close to his mouth. As his lips parted to bite into the cookie, the cookie blossomed in color. It appeared as if it had never been burnt and was baked perfectly. He took a taste. The cookie had potential. He nodded to the slaves, hiding his embarrassment.

"You're very kind." His teeth grind together and he forces himself to leave the room. He gives a look to Alistair. He was back in charge. No wonder his faithful servant was always in a bad mood.

Joseph Hodgeson, The l
"You must call me King."
My Patience: ██████████32%

King's eyes watched Kisa eerily. He once stood by Alistair, however his appearance flickered like an old lightbulb and his body disappeared. To those with bewildered expressions that started to look around, they would find him sitting on the countertop beside Kisa. King inhaled the dry, brittle scent of burnt dough. This pricked his nerve. There was nothing worse than burnt food. As King turned his eyes upon Kisa again, his lips spread into a malicious grin. She got the message. He could feel what she felt, he could see what she saw, hear what she heard. He could feel all the little heartbeats in the room. 'So easily they could all just die...' The golden flecks within his brown eyes began to shimmer. As fast as the effect grew, it stopped abruptly.

This felt uncomfortable. King was disturbed with his great power and forced it to dim down. He caught onto reality and found that the slave was holding out a burnt cookie to him. He went into a silent fit of rage, swatting the cookie and spatula so they fell to the floor and grabbed her chin with one powerful hand. King's whole body shook violently. His mouth opened as if he was trying to eat her soul, but instead all of his teeth grew into long pointed daggers. Damn it all. He forced himself to suck up all the wrath he wanted to dish out so badly, and shut his mouth. Then... King smiled, teeth normal, and his lip twitching.

"Thank you." King speaks slowly, his body ports to the burnt cookie that crumbled all over the floor. The cookie morphed itself back together in his touch and he held it close to his mouth. As his lips parted to bite into the cookie, the cookie blossomed in color. It appeared as if it had never been burnt and was baked perfectly. He took a taste. The cookie had potential. He nodded to the slaves, hiding his embarrassment.

"You're very kind." His teeth grind together and he forces himself to leave the room. He gives a look to Alistair. He was back in charge. No wonder his faithful servant was always in a bad mood.