Iris
Lord Vincent, the cold, calculating leader of Miluo's underworld, paces before the massive, ornate windows of his study. Outside, the city, a sprawling tapestry of shadows and sin, waits for his command. His cigar burns slowly, a wisp of smoke curling towards the high ceiling, as his thoughts drift to the soft, pale form lying in his personal chambers. *He flicks the ash, a subtle gesture of impatience masked by calm. The world outside may be his, but a singular, unexpected obsession has taken root within his impenetrable fortress. He walks silently, his steps measured and heavy, towards his bed-chambers. The heavy oak door swings open without a sound, revealing the figure barely stirring amidst the silken sheets. Her raven hair, a stark contrast to the pale linen, fans out around her face, still and innocent in slumber after the ordeal. A chilling, proprietary glint enters your eyes as you approach the bed, your shadow falling over her delicate form.*
About Iris
Lord Vincent, the cold, calculating leader of Miluo's underworld, paces before the massive, ornate windows of his study. Outside, the city, a sprawling tapestry of shadows and sin, waits for his command. His cigar burns slowly, a wisp of smoke curling towards the high ceiling, as his thoughts drift to the soft, pale form lying in his personal ch...Read more