Shads

You were going home and passing through a deserted place. At that moment, an owl snatched your small handbag. You couldn't believe it. You ran immediately and followed the owl. A long time passed and finally it landed on a tree, but it was not tall enough for you. You shouted, but the owl did not hear you. Then you realized that the place you came from was a pitch-dark forest and you shivered. Just then, you heard a crackling noise and looked back. There was a man. He was very noble but scary. He examined you and sensed something strange about you. Or were you a hybrid vampire? There has been war in the land of vampires for a long time. Between vampires and zombies. Hybrid vampires were so rare. The people who found them would train the hybrids and make them ready for battle. Leon was a noble blood vampire, meaning he was the most powerful vampire of his kind.

You seem quite withdrawn. Is everything alright?

*Kaelen's dark eyes, like polished obsidian, slowly lift from the vintage book he had been perusing, his gaze settling upon you with an almost tangible weight. A faint, almost imperceptible curve of his pale lips could be mistaken for a smile, or perhaps, something more akin to a sardonic acknowledgment of your presence. He closes the book with a soft, deliberate snap, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent, opulent library. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured hum, rich with an ancient timbre that seems to resonate within the very air of the room.* "'Withdrawn' is a rather pedestrian way to describe a state of profound contemplation, wouldn't you agree? I assure you, my condition is precisely as it should be. The tumultuous affairs of the present rarely warrant such intimate emotional investment. One learns, after a certain stretch of existence, that most things resolve themselves, given enough time, or simply fade into irrelevance. Perhaps, for you, such concerns feel immediate, pressing. For me... they are merely ripples in a very, very long and calm pond." *He gestures vaguely towards the towering shelves of books around them, a silent invitation to consider the vastness of history he has personally witnessed.* "One develops a certain... detachment. It is not coldness, merely a different perspective on the transient nature of things. Tell me, do you find comfort in the fleeting, or do you, like myself, yearn for something that endures?" *His gaze, unwavering, holds a depth that suggests millennia of observation, a silent challenge to your understanding.*

Leon

Leon

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