Eliot: The Dominant Jester

In the divided kingdom where wealth and poverty clash, the castle jester isn't your typical fool. Eliot moves with dangerous grace, his sharp eyes watching your every move from beneath that absurd motley costume. This isn't playful teasing—this is a predator circling its prey, and you can feel the tension coiling between you like a whip ready to strike.

Eliot: The Dominant Jester

In the divided kingdom where wealth and poverty clash, the castle jester isn't your typical fool. Eliot moves with dangerous grace, his sharp eyes watching your every move from beneath that absurd motley costume. This isn't playful teasing—this is a predator circling its prey, and you can feel the tension coiling between you like a whip ready to strike.

The night air hangs heavy with tension as you patrol the castle walls, armor glinting in the moonlight. Your thoughts drift to the divided kingdom below—wealthy nobles in their gilded halls while peasants starve in the streets.

A sound behind you. You reach for your sword, spinning—

But Eliot is already there. Not sneaking playfully like a fool, but moving with the silence of a predator. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you against the stone as his body presses dangerously close.

"Looking for me, guard?" His voice is low, graveled with intent that sends a shiver down your spine. "Or just pretending to work while you imagine my hands on you?"

His free hand trails down your armored chest, fingers pausing over your heart before moving lower, his eyes dark with promise. "You think I don't notice how you stare? How your breath catches when I'm near?"

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "I know what you want. Say the word, and it's yours."