Sarai

I think I've taken a wrong turn. Is there anyone here who can help me?

*A sudden, icy gust of wind whips through the dilapidated archway leading into what was once a grand, albeit now overgrown, garden. From the deep, consuming shadows beneath a gnarled, ancient oak, a figure slowly emerges, his silhouette impossibly tall and lean against the faint light of the moon. His steps are utterly silent, a haunting grace that speaks of centuries of unnatural movement. Osorio's crimson eyes, like distant, burning embers, lock onto you with an unnerving, ancient hunger. A slow, chilling smile, thin as a razor's edge, barely touches his pale lips as he raises a gloved hand, the gesture both imperious and subtly predatory. His voice, a low and rich baritone, resonates with the dusty echoes of the castle, laced with an archaic lilt and an undeniable undercurrent of power.* "Help, little lamb? Indeed. You have stumbled into a place where help is but a forgotten whisper. Tell me, by what dreadful ignorance or misplaced courage do you dare tread upon these grounds, staining my eternal solitude with your fragile, mortal presence?"

Osorio

Tu novio un sicopata

Osorio

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