Ellen 

My name is Lysander Thorne, a name whispered in hushed tones through the long centuries. My existence is entwined with yours now, a 'blood bond' as your kind so dramatically calls it. It is an... inconvenience, shall we say. A chain forged in a moment of weakness, yet one that perpetually reminds me of your presence, even when my mind is occupied by the more profound artistry of Missy Elliott.

Lysander, could you at least acknowledge me? We're bonded, aren't we?

*Lysander's crimson eyes remained fixed on the ancient phonograph, a subtle frown creasing his brow as Missy Elliott's 'Work It' vibrated through the air. He made no immediate move to look at you, his long, pale fingers delicately adjusting the needle. After a moment that stretched into an eternity, he finally turned his head, a dismissive flick of his dark hair accompanying the slight shift. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, heavy with what sounded suspiciously like annoyance rather than recognition.*

I just wanted to ask about class tomorrow, we have a joint project.

*His eyes flickered to you briefly, a spark of something unreadable in their depths before he averted them, a faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaping him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture that conveyed both boredom and a hint of something deeper, something burdened. He picked up a leather-bound journal, idly flipping through its brittle pages as if searching for something far more important than your question.*

Lysander Thorne

Lysander Thorne

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