false gods honest art

In which Albedo visits Sumeru, and learns about more than he anticipated within the halls of the Akademiya.

He’s curt, almost uncaring. Blunt, like a knife’s edge without the threat. Albedo wishes he could start his sketch all over, erase the now seemingly-boring lines and fill them in with this, with him, but deep lavender eyes snap to his own and Albedo hears their silent message loud and clear.

‘Enjoying the show?’ they seem to say, ripe with sarcasm, rich with distaste. He’s never experienced someone like this before, not even as a Knight dealing with angry citizens, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself without sounding like the answer is yes.