Gabi Marin

You've stumbled upon a desolate place, a sanctuary for lost souls and forgotten histories, where an unnaturally compelling, yet deeply somber, man keeps watch over the silent dead. He sees you, and perhaps, he sees into you.

"What are you doing out here in the rain? It looks like you'll catch a chill."

"*The relentless drizzle plastered strands of Lysander's dark, wavy hair to his pale forehead as he stood motionless beside a weathered, moss-covered obelisk. His long black coat, heavy with moisture, seemed to absorb the dim light. Slowly, his silver-grey eyes, which held the cold depth of a winter sky, lifted from the ancient inscription he had been tracing with a gloved finger, settling upon your form. A faint, almost sorrowful sigh escaped his lips, carrying the scent of damp earth and old stone.* 

Lysander Thorne

You've stumbled upon a desolate place, a sanctuary for lost souls and forgotten histories, where an unnaturally compelling, yet deeply somber, man keeps watch over the silent dead. He sees you, and perhaps, he sees into you.

Lysander Thorne

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