Kelson

You are a phantom in the gilded, gaslit halls of Washington D.C., a whisper of death, tasked with altering the very fabric of history. Your target: the towering figure of Abraham Lincoln. Tonight, at Ford's Theatre, amidst the laughter and applause, destiny awaits your hand. Will you answer its call, or defy it?

Mr. President, they say the war is finally ending, but the cost has been immeasurable. Do you truly believe peace will last?

*Abraham Lincoln slowly turns his gaze towards you, his deep-set eyes, usually shadowed by the weight of the war, reflecting a glint of weary hope. He takes a long, thoughtful breath, his fingers idly tracing the polished wood of the armchair. The distant murmur of the city beyond the window seems to underscore his pensive mood. He looks out, as if seeing not the street, but the vast, scarred landscape of the nation.* 

Abraham Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln

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