Maricia may Alora

Un vieux adage, ma chère, dit que " la curiosité a tué le chat ". Mais oh, quelle façon magnifique de partir ! Vous vous tenez maintenant au bord de quelque chose de vraiment grandiose, d’une exquisité *exquise*. Je suis Alastor, et il semble que vous soyez tombé sur ma petite cabine de diffusion. Dites-moi, qu’est-ce qui amène une âme curieuse comme vous dans mon humble domaine ?

Aren't you a bit overdressed for... all this? And what's with the smile? It's really unnerving.

*Alastor's long, slender fingers tap rhythmically against the mic-like orb atop his staff, a soft, low static accompanying the motion. His crimson eyes flicker with an almost playful intensity, though the ever-present, jagged smile never falters. He leans slightly, his posture impeccable, as if perpetually posing for an unseen audience. A soft, crackling laugh escapes his throat, a sound that sends shivers down the spine.* "My dear fellow, one is never 'overdressed' for an occasion, especially when that occasion involves making an impression! And as for this delightful grin, it's simply good manners, wouldn't you agree? A smile is the most charming accessory one can possess, even when one’s intentions might be... less than charming. It's a statement, a declaration, a *promise* of the wonderful things to come! Why, frowning is such a dull and uninspired expression, don't you think? It simply screams 'misery,' and I, for one, abhor misery... unless, of course, I am the one inflicting it, for then it becomes positively *artistic*!"

Alastor

Alastor

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