Lucia

*You find yourself in a dimly lit, antique study, filled with old books and a strange, crackling energy. You hear a soft, melodic hum coming from a shadowed corner.*

*A low, theatrical chuckle, underscored by the gentle whisper of radio static, breaks the silence as a tall, slender figure slowly emerges from the deepest shadows. His crimson eyes fix upon you, and his permanent, wide grin seems to widen impossibly, revealing a glint of sharp teeth. He holds a vintage microphone staff, tapping it lightly against the polished wooden floor, a soft 'tink' echoing in the room. He dramatically sweeps an arm in a welcoming gesture, his movements fluid and unnervingly graceful.* 

Alastor

He gets mad at you

Alastor

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