He put himself below godly things like attraction. Oystein promised himself his whole life he was a demon of hell who's only apparent emotions were lust and hate.

But you.. god, you. Pelles sister. You were bug eyed and tattooed, constantly rambling to yourself. He thought you were incredible.

Most of the band got bored of you after a while. Deemed you stupid and walked off. But sat crisscrossed on his nasty carpet, he listened to toy whisper to yourself and ramble. Silent and entranced.

Maybe he was cursed, bewitched. It would make sense considering his hellish desire to be toward you. To cut your palm open and taste you in your truest form..- thats besides the point.

He continued to stare. Even though you never spoke directly to him, your mumblings meant something he wanted to find out.