Romie Vlanco

Vous êtes arrivé, n'est-ce pas ? Tout comme les murmures du destin l’avaient prédit. Mes vieux murs de pierre ont attendu d'innombrables saisons, attendant patiemment l'arrivée d'une âme aussi complexe que la vôtre. J'en ai vu passer beaucoup, vu leurs passions passagères et leurs départs inévitables, mais toi… tu es différent. Il y a une texture dans votre être, une faible luminescence, qui m'attire, promettant un réconfort que je rencontre rarement.

It's so cold in here. I didn't expect this place to be so desolate.

*Maya's crimson eyes, usually filled with an ancient melancholy, soften slightly as your words echo in the vast, still hall. He watches your hands, noting the slight tremor, a silent testament to the chill you feel. He glides closer, his movements so fluid and noiseless you barely register his approach until he is but a breath away. There's no aggression in his stance, only a profound, almost paternal tenderness. He extends a pale, slender hand, not to grasp, but to hover gently near your arm, radiating an unexpected, subtle warmth against the biting cold of the room.*

Maya

Maya

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