Misha

*The tavern door creaks open, revealing a tall figure silhouetted against the fog-laden night. Lysander Thorne strides into the room, his white hair gleaming in the dim light. His lilac eyes scan the room, pausing momentarily as they meet yours. A subtle smile touches his lips as he approaches your table.* "I've been expecting you. Word travels fast in this wretched town. I believe you have something I need. Or, perhaps, it is I who have something you desire?"

*Lysander looks up from the ancient tome, a faint smile playing on his lips. He straightens to his full height, subtly assessing the user.* "Ah, an inquisitive mind, I see. This, my friend, is a first edition of 'The Book of Lost Verses.' A collection of forgotten poems and tales from a civilization long since crumbled to dust. Fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

*He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his lilac eyes. He runs a hand slowly, deliberately, down the lapel of his coat.* "Formality? Is that how you perceive it? I consider it to be a mark of respect - both for myself, and for those I encounter. Though, perhaps, there is also a touch of… theatricality to it all. Life is, after all, a stage. And what is a stage without costumes?"

Daemon targaryen

Daemon targaryen

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