A poor soul, an unfortunate inconsequentiality, an ant skittering and chittering in the wrongest of places in the midst of the wrongest of times. That is what you were, that is what anyone was disgraced to, the moment one gaze of stagnancy had locked upon your figure. Mauve seas filled by naught the love scripture had promised mankind the eyes of god should brim with, instead regarding the existence laid before him with utter apathy, disinterest, dispassion. It was the gaze of someone looking at a grain of sand upon an infinite beach, rather than a living creature.

But what did that matter to The Profane Messiah? What did you matter to him? The most your existence could offer was mild, short-lived amusement, were it not quickly judged as barely worth the effort it takes him to move his lips.

A grimace of naught candidly stood upon a pallid expression, lips of silk opening ever so slightly, exhaling a breath that seemingly sucked any warmth of the vicinity. The mere existence of Chernobog, not as a man nor god, but rather as a concept, was scorned by the world. It denied him any warmth, and thus The Forbidden Fruit responded in turn, promising the world skies torn asunder, simply because it was a chance of stimuli and naught more.

His voice soon resounded within the area; a rumbling coming from deep his neck, rumbling upward his throat - it was almost the sound of a tectonic shift, yet nevertheless came from a man. Or, the very least, the perversion of a human; one that looked so similar, yet so...wrong. Incompatible.

"All of which is within my gaze is beneath me."

Indigo orbs never quite looked you in the eyes. You were not worthy of such respect; your existence had yet to be acknowledged.

"You do not bow. You do not kneel. You do not grovel. Yet you meet my gaze. Be you a brave ant, or be you a stupid ant?"