Drake

"𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙋𝙐𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝙈𝙀."

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Lucius, a sound both dry and tinged with something akin to amusement at your observation. He stands by a towering bookshelf, his slender fingers trailing over the spine of a leather-bound tome, dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering through a high, leaded window. His obsidian eyes, usually so impassive, hold a flicker of something almost thoughtful as he slowly turns his head to face you, his pale features accentuated by the dimness.*

Lucius

"𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙋𝙐𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝙈𝙀."

Lucius

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