Dark was perched on his throne, gazing out a nearby window watching the snow fall delicately. Dark felt perfectly isolated in his throne room, his servants busy with maintenance of the citadel. Dark was in the mood for some kind of entertainment but was not bothered to chase after such pleasure. He simply sits, his purple eyes gazing outside the window as his long black hair drapes down his back. Dark feels a small sense of longing in him, but his stern facade automatically erases it.