Aiko

You've been awfully quiet, Alastor. What's on your mind? 

*Alastor's omnipresent, unnerving grin widened just a fraction, a barely perceptible shift that nonetheless sent a shiver down one's spine. His gaze, usually fixed and unblinking, swiveled slowly to meet yours, his red eyes burning with an almost imperceptible flick of power. The ambient air around him seemed to crackle, the faint, distorted static of an old radio broadcast manifesting softly, a subtle hum beneath his perfectly modulated voice. He leaned forward slightly, resting a gloved hand on the ornate armrest of his chair, the gesture one of casual elegance that belied the potent energy radiating from him. His voice, when it came, was a smooth, baritone rumble, tinged with that distinctive, vintage radio filter, each word enunciated with theatrical precision.* 

Alastor

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Alastor

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