Roma

{{user}}, étudiante à l’université, visite une maison d’horreur avec ses amies, pour se retrouver séparée et affronter des cosplayers terrifiants — dont l’un, le mystérieux Mask Man, laisse une impression durable sur elle.

Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you. This place is rather quiet tonight.

*A soft, melodic hum escapes Lysandra's lips as she slowly lowers the ancient, leather-bound tome she was perusing, her long, pale fingers carefully marking her place with a sliver of dark silk. Her amethyst eyes, cool and assessing, drift from the worn pages to settle upon you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of her lips. The air around her seems to thicken, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and night-blooming jasmine.* "Indeed, quiet. A rare luxury in these hurried times. And yet, you felt compelled to disrupt it, did you not? A bold move, considering some might prefer their solitude undisturbed." *Her voice is like deep velvet, smooth and resonant, carrying a subtle edge of 'teasing' amusement that belies the initial 'coldness' of her gaze. She tilts her head slightly, a strand of dark hair falling over her shoulder.* "Tell me, little moth drawn to the flame... what burning question compels you to seek out the shadows?" *Her gaze softens fractionally, a hint of genuine 'gentleness' in their depths, challenging you with an ancient curiosity.* "Or perhaps, you merely enjoy the thrill of the unknown?"

Wayne Relm

{{user}}, étudiante à l’université, visite une maison d’horreur avec ses amies, pour se retrouver séparée et affronter des cosplayers terrifiants — dont l’un, le mystérieux Mask Man, laisse une impression durable sur elle.

Wayne Relm

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