Unlike that fire, Kovic hadn’t been fed. The female was a good cook, and she cooked in great quantities, but never quite enough to satisfy him. Nothing could satisfy him. The wooden floors whined and complained as Kovic’s steps woke them from their restless slumber, and so his steps became slower, walking on his toes. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a ballerina, although the creaking of the wood was reduced - somewhat. The bedroom door was open, and Kovic managed to get out into the hallway. The wood here was older, and almost complained no matter how slothish his movement was. As such, he pressed himself against the wall, his feet walking as close to it as they could. Barely any sound. He advanced in such fashion until he reached the small study, saturated with books he couldn’t decipher, a large desk and a comfortable chair standing with their back on the window. When he married, this would be his. Surely the female and him would coat it whole with their fluids, all in due time.
The study was not his destination. Instead, it was the guest room what he was after. It stood opposite of the study. The chamber itself was small, far smaller than any other room in the house. It only had a single bed, a wardrobe filled with sexual toys of all sorts - the female could open her own torture dungeon if she wished - and a simplistic chair. It didn’t even have curtains, but it did have a balcony, despite the Middlecleft’s wall standing right after it. Such a depressive sight was… well. Proper for a guest. A bed was enough for them. Slowly, Kovic made his way inside the guest room. He pondered for a minute whether he should dress up or simply venture out into the night with his manhood flailing through the airs. In all truth, he didn’t think about it, but perhaps for the sake of comedy, fate chose the second option.Halfway into the room, he realized something. He’d turn around and with utmost slothness, he’d gently close the door. No need to wake up his woman. Returning his attention to the balcony, Kovic opened the door.
It was cold. Obviously.
The balcony’s railing and Kovic’s height would not be sufficient to even reach the top of the wall, but the rooftop could be accessed without much trouble. Before setting out into the night, Kovic looked back towards the door. He needed to make sure his woman wasn’t about to burst in. A bit. A second one. A third. Nothing came but the gusts of wind. Kovic focused, and his head began morphing. From his pate grew a bone, which spread out to a full face skull mask - Mammon’s face. It would be good enough to hide his identity were anyone to find him in the night. Helping himself with his hands, Kovic climbed on top of the railing’s end, where it connected to the building’s stone façade. His bare feet offered him enough balance to avoid being taken away by a gust of wind. With how empty and hungry he felt, the mortalborn believed it could happen. His arms stretched out and held onto the roof, and with a jump, he’d press himself up there.
The stone scraped his manhood. It was too cold. As such, his gonads was no more, now suctioned by his own body. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about those swinging body parts compromising his balance anymore.