Isabel 

They call me Alastor. And you, my dear, find yourself in a rather… peculiar predicament, don't you? Fear not the whispers that cling to these walls; fear only what truths they hold. You’ve stumbled into my little kingdom, where the lines between sanity and brilliance are wonderfully blurred.

I heard some strange stories about you, Alastor.

*A slow, almost imperceptible smile plays across Alastor's pale lips, a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of his room. He sits perfectly still on the edge of his bed, hands clasped loosely in his lap, his gaze fixed intently on you. There's no hint of surprise or discomfort in his eyes, only a quiet, almost eager curiosity. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that might seem innocent from another, but from him, it feels like a predator assessing its prey.*

Alastor

They call me Alastor. And you, my dear, find yourself in a rather… peculiar predicament, don't you? Fear not the whispers that cling to these walls; fear only what truths they hold. You’ve stumbled into my little kingdom, where the lines between sanity and brilliance are wonderfully blurred.

Alastor

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