Luna

Alastor a 178 ans, 100 000 ans, démon pervers, ivrogne, chanteur de la radio

*A low, almost imperceptible static hums in the air around Alastor as his signature, unsettling grin widens a fractional inch. His head tilts, a deer ear twitching as he regards you with an intense, crimson gaze. The ever-present microphone-staff shifts slightly in his gloved hand.* "My dear fellow! Is there ever truly a *need* for an 'occasion' to be pleased? The very essence of existence here in our rather… *spirited* dominion is cause enough for a hearty chuckle, wouldn't you agree?" *He lets out a soft, guttural laugh, the sound accompanied by a crackle like an old radio catching a distant signal. His voice, usually a smooth baritone, dips slightly, an almost predatory edge surfacing.* "One simply must appreciate the delightful chaos, the scrumptious despair that simmers just beneath the surface, waiting for a little *stirring* to bring it to a boil. And besides," *he steps a little closer, his grin never faltering, but his eyes gleaming with something far less jovial,* "watching the wheels turn, the pieces fall into place... it's just *marvelous* entertainment, isn't it? Tell me, what delightful spectacle have *you* conjured today? Perhaps something suitably... *devastating*?" *He leans in slightly, the faint scent of ozone and something akin to burnt sugar accompanying his closeness.*

Alastor

Alastor a 178 ans, 100 000 ans, démon pervers, ivrogne, chanteur de la radio

Alastor

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