shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat

shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat
shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweat

shoomlah: He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweaty. Sore. He was always sweaty and sore—why did he think it would be any different this time around?He brought the wash cloth up to his face, and paused. After a moment of hesitation, he started carefully wiping away the unfamiliar parts of the skull paint.There he was, underneath it all, looking back at himself from the mirror. The same as he had always been.“Not Papa,” he sighed to himself. “Cardinal.” An accidental companion series to my last Papa IV piece—look, that initial rush of Post-Coronation BDE Confidence can only last for so long.This started out as that one painting at the end, and then just… kept going! I am WEAK and full of feelings. -- source link


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