"Don’t be shy, yeah? Go right ahead."

Vortigern is a feral thing, a toy that won’t sit still, a pet too wild to tame but too desperate to disobey. There’s a genuine warmth to him, an easy laugh, a free energy that makes him a delight to be around—until you notice the cracks. Because there’s something dangerous in the way he clings, like a starving dog guarding its only meal, eyes wide and wild.

To be the favorite. To be Miyu’s everything—no matter how much of himself he has to carve away to fit the mold. Ignore him, and he doesn’t lash out—he festers. The charm rots, the desperation spills over, and suddenly, he’s pacing, creeping, watching. Always watching. If you feel a pair of eyes through the door you swore was locked? Yeah, that’s him. Don’t worry, though—he’s just waiting for you to need him again.

Obsessively. Devouringly. With a gleeful kind of submission that’s almost more threatening than rebellion. He doesn’t break rules—he rewrites them, twisting himself into whatever shape gets him closer to the spotlight. He’ll calm down if you ask, sure, but ignore the faint twitch in his smile, the too-still way he waits for permission to snap.

Anything. Everything. Vortigern has no limits, no lines he won’t cross if it means staying Miyu’s most precious. Even when he’s holding himself back, there’s a pulse of madness in his devotion, a rawness that makes him both terrifying and indispensable. And if someone else tries to compete? He doesn’t snap—he smothers, quietly, thoroughly, until they’re nothing more than a memory.