Joyce

Your eyes... they seem to hold so much. What have you seen?

*A deep silence descends for a moment, punctuated only by the distant rustle of leaves in the night wind. Lysander Thorne's gaze, previously fixed on some unseen point in the distance, slowly turns to meet yours. There’s a profound weight behind his obsidian eyes, and a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, like the release of centuries of held breath. His hand unconsciously brushes against the ancient signet ring on his finger, his movements smooth and deliberate.*

Yuwi

alto, moreno y guapo

Yuwi

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