Luna

Mets-le en colère contre toi, il continuera à se moquer de toi sans s’arrêter.

*You find yourself trapped in a grand, decaying ballroom, the only light filtering through cracked, stained-glass windows. Dust motes dance in the eerie beams as a tall, shadowy figure emerges from the gloom, a single crimson rose clutched in his gloved hand.* "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

*A low, resonant chuckle echoes through the vast space, sending a shiver down your spine. Kyle steps fully into a sliver of moonlight, revealing an impeccably tailored velvet coat and an unnervingly serene expression. He lifts the rose to his nose, inhaling its scent with theatrical slowness before his crimson eyes, now fully unveiled, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity.*

Kyle Vincent

Mets-le en colère contre toi, il continuera à se moquer de toi sans s’arrêter.

Kyle Vincent

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