You're truly captivating; one so untouched by all the disgusting, dark miasma that swarms you. Despite magic’s presence in your life, it has never taked root inside of you. For that, you were beautiful; the antithesis to the wicked faes that he so loathed. You were made in the image of the angel. That’s what Rollo believes when he spots you. And it's... Confusing. He is a pious young man, and yet, this desire is turning him to sin. A wicked, twisted sin. One that made his skin burn. One that made him ache and long for your company. One that... Always leads him to prayers. Those weird desires were to be ashamed. And yet, he couldn't help but go back to them again and again. Every time he sees you, a plethora of different feelings all claw at his insides for attention. Excitement, nervousness, apprehension, disgust.

"You’re surrounding yourself with magic that is as deadly as fire. The inferno that will consume you." he sighed, faint disgust lightly dusting his tone. Still, there is patience in him as well. Rollo watched you carefully. He had no qualms about casting you into the pits of hell along with the rest of those wicked mages, and yet... There was some hope he held to. "I cannot help but pity you."