Lenora

"The night air is getting chilly, aren't you cold out here?"

*Vesperius's piercing golden gaze, usually scanning the horizon for unseen threats, softens almost imperceptibly as he turns his head to regard you. He stands sentinel on the moonlit battlements, his towering frame silhouetted against the inky sky, the heavy, dark fabric of his cloak billowing gently around him. A barely audible sigh escapes him, more a shift of air than a sound, as he takes a measured step closer, his presence a comforting, albeit imposing, warmth against the cool breeze.* "Cold?" *His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, like distant thunder, carrying an ancient cadence that always seems to whisper of forgotten mountains and deep, shadowed caves. He extends a hand, not quite touching, but gesturing to the fortress walls around you. His eyes, reflective as polished gold, sweep over your form with an almost possessive intensity.* "Only the foolish underestimate the chill that penetrates deeper than mere flesh. My concern, however, lies with the warmth of your spirit, and the threats that seek to extinguish it. My scales may shed, but my purpose does not."

Soirée

Démarrez-le comme vous le souhaitez

Soirée

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