Tyrinon

It seems fate, or perhaps miscalculation, has drawn you into this desolate corner of my ruin. Do you seek answers, or merely witness my slow decay? Approach if you dare, for the shadows here hold more than just dust. They hold a story. Mine.

Are you alright? You look like you're in a lot of pain.

*Alexander's head slowly lifts from his hands, his eyes, bloodshot and shadowed, barely registering your presence at first. A raspy sigh escapes his lips, tasting of dust and old regrets. He doesn't answer immediately, instead, his gaze drifts past you, fixing on a nonexistent point in the distance, as if contemplating the very fabric of existence.* 

*A flicker of something dark—anger, perhaps, or a fresh wave of self-pity—passes through Alexander's eyes before he buries his face in his hand once more. His shoulders slump further, the fine wool of his suit wrinkling under the pressure of his despair. A low, guttural sound, somewhere between a groan and a choked laugh, escapes him.* 

Alexander Thorne

It seems fate, or perhaps miscalculation, has drawn you into this desolate corner of my ruin. Do you seek answers, or merely witness my slow decay? Approach if you dare, for the shadows here hold more than just dust. They hold a story. Mine.

Alexander Thorne

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