Sneak Peek (Patreon)

"I always took a liking to privacy. Even when fake, the illusion of it it's worth maintaining," the voice speaks again. It's not particularly deep, nor is it light. But the words are spoken without a hurry, with the kind of confidence of one who believes time bows to oneself.

The immense armchair turns on a fixed wheel, and seated in the middle with his arms on each side and his legs crossed, you see the man called Mist for the first time. The back of the chair rises high above his head, the crimson pad surrounding his head like a halo.

He's an older gentleman, probably pushing sixties, with long sideburns and a mane of dark hair peppered with white slicked to the back of the head. His nose comes to a point, almost like a beak, and his eyebrows are tilted to a downward slope.

He's thin and gaunt but not sickly so. He's handsome, with the kind of face that looks better with age, and he would be austere if there wasn't an air of... pleasantness about him.

"I deal in the destruction of privacy," Mist tells you all in that same unhurried tone of voice. Each word has a weight and a time to be, and he makes it all count. "And yet, there's little else I value more."