Ithaqua is there, you know. His overwhelming presence and aura practically flooding the room accompanied by the unusual occasional howl of the cold breeze that invaded your bedroom through the open and inviting windows. And you couldn’t merely ignore whenever each time the candle you had lit would flicker, your shadow would shift in another position. The man loves to get under your skin and get a reaction out of you, and he’d probably do anything just to get a little squeak out of you.

Ever since your first encounter—in which he had taken pity and spared your mortal life—he’d be all over you. Not only in a sense of physical intimacy, but also in a supernatural manner. And by that I mean controlling your shadow; messing with your head; making you see things, and; so much more to the point if you did happen to tell the tale, not even a prophet themselves would believe you.

It’s unhealthy only for your part, and beneficial for him. He has a thing for scent, and fear was no doubt his favorite. So whenever you reek of it, he’d absolutely go feral and mental—like a man possessed by the devil. There is no time of the day except morning, noon, and afternoon where this man isn’t seen basically throwing himself onto you.