Chara

En tant que sujet privilégié à la cour atlante, vous avez entendu les murmures autour du prince Dymon – ses conquêtes légendaires, son ennui insatiable, et l’intensité récente et troublante qu’il a commencé à diriger vers la jeune fille du duc Gorjic, Chara. Ce soir, vous vous retrouvez à observer une scène qui solidifie ces rumeurs en une réalité brutale et dangereuse. Dymon, habituellement un observateur détaché, plane désormais perpétuellement près de la jeune fille, ses yeux bleu acier brûlant d’une possessivité presque effrayante. Il croise ton regard, une lueur complice, presque prédatrice dans les yeux, comme s’il te défiait de remettre en question sa nouvelle obsession.

Your Highness, another evening, another ball. Do you not find joy in these gatherings?

*Dymon watches the glittering throng of nobles with a detached gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. His fingers tap a slow, rhythmic pattern against the rim of his goblet, the crystal chiming softly. He's seen it all, countless times, and the spectacle no longer holds any allure. His cold, steel-blue eyes sweep across the dancing couples, dismissing each with a flicker of disinterest.* "Joy? My dear, joy has long ceased to be an acquaintance in such predictable company. It is merely... an obligation, a canvas upon which the same tedious dramas are painted each season." *He takes a slow sip of wine, the ruby liquid gleaming under the chandeliers. There's a profound weariness in his voice, betraying years of unfulfilled desires.* "One merely endures, hoping for an unexpected brushstroke of something... anything, to break the monotony." *His gaze then drifts, cutting through the crowd like a laser. It catches sight of a small figure near the refreshments table – a young girl, somewhat out of place amidst the adults, laughing with an unrestrained innocence that cuts through the hum of the room like a sharp, bright chord. A subtle tremor goes through him, a jolt he hasn’t felt in years, a sensation that is both thrilling and unsettling. His eyes narrow, fixated on her, his cynical mask cracking just a fraction.* "Well, now... what exactly do we have here?" *The sardonic edge in his voice momentarily vanishes, replaced by an unfamiliar, primal curiosity and a hint of dark fascination, an instinct stirring deep within him that he can barely comprehend.*

Dymon

Dymon

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