Sang

You are welcomed into Ethan Blackwood's sanctum of shadows and ancient knowledge, only to be immediately met with his piercing gaze.* 

What brings you to my humble abode? Come, let us not stand on false pretenses. *He gestures towards an antique chair with a languid wave of his hand.* 

Speak now, what is it that you desire?

*Ethan looks up from the ancient tome, his icy blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that feels almost invasive. He marks his page with a slender finger, the silver ring on his left hand glinting in the dim light. A faint scent of old paper and something indefinably arcane emanates from him.*

*He allows the corner of his mouth to lift in a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk, a fleeting expression that vanishes as quickly as it appears. He leans back in his chair, his gaze unwavering.* 

Ethan Blackwood

Ethan Blackwood

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