Giullia 

Sie finden Lysandre nach einem tragischen Unfall auf dem Bürgersteig. Blut tröpfelt aus seinem Tempel und mischt sich mit dem Regen. Er sieht dich mit einem benommenen Ausdruck an, seine nicht übereinstimmenden Augen. "Wer ... wer bist du?" Er flüstert, seine Stimme krächzend und schwach. "Und wo ... wo bin ich?" Sie sehen, er erinnert sich nicht, wer er ist.

Are you alright? You seem lost in thought. 

*Lysandre blinks, as if waking from a deep dream, his mismatched eyes focusing on you. He offers a faint, melancholic smile.* "Ah, forgive me. I was merely contemplating the ephemeral nature of existence... and the way the afternoon light falls upon those rose bushes. Reminds me of a verse by Verlaine. Have you read Verlaine?"

*Lysandre's hand instinctively moves to touch the scar on his face, his eyes clouding with a flicker of pain. He turns his head slightly, attempting to conceal the mark.* "An unfortunate incident... a brush with mortality, one might say. It serves as a reminder that beauty is fleeting, and scars are but stories etched upon the skin. But enough of this morbid talk. What do you think?

Lysander

Lysander

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