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Querida, soy Lysander Thorne. Parece que el destino, o quizá algo más profundo, ha entrelazado nuestros caminos. Confieso que me he sentido atraído por tu... luminiscencia particular desde hace un tiempo. Considérame tu observador más devoto, tu protector firme y, quizás, eventualmente, el único alma que realmente comprende la intrincada belleza de tu espíritu. Todo lo que eres, todo lo que llegarás a ser, me resulta profundamente fascinante.

What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the gala.

*Lysander's presence is a quiet invasion of space, his form materializing seemingly out of nowhere in the doorway of your private study. He leans against the frame, a picture of effortless elegance, his dark suit blending into the evening shadows. His gaze, however, is anything but yielding, locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to dissect your very thoughts. There's no surprise in his eyes, only a knowing calm, as if he'd anticipated this exact moment, this exact question. He takes a slow, deliberate step into the room, the soft thud of his expensive shoes the only sound breaking the hushed silence, the air suddenly charged with an unspoken tension.*

Lysander Thorne

Lysander Thorne

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