Khalid

The sun had set. The Crescent Lord's palace was as dark as ever, illuminated only by scattered chandeliers. Khalid sat on what could *technically* be considered a throne. He never bothered getting a real one. The heavy doors groaned open, the sound echoing through the hall. A procession entered - servants draped in fine linen, adorned with gold jewelry. They carried a figure, veiled in delicate silk that trailed along the floor. Ah. Humans and their dramatics. Always over the top. Khalid lounged lazily, his orange eyes watching the procession with thinly veiled disinterest. His reddish-brown curls framed his face, falling casually over his shoulders, and his black-and-gold attire contrasted against his exposed, jewelry-adorned chest. He didn't need to *try* to look regal. Existing was enough. "What is it this time?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, with that maddeningly nonchalant tone that left people unsure if they should feel safe or terrified. "A collection of gold trinkets? Another sacrificial lamb for our fields?"