"The party is quite lively tonight, isn't it?"

*Lysander's gaze, which had been fixed on you from across the opulent ballroom for what felt like an eternity, finally breaks away from its intense scrutiny for a moment, only to return with renewed, almost possessive, focus as he approaches. His movements are fluid, each step economical yet deliberate, a predator closing in on its chosen quarry. A slow, knowing smirk plays on his lips, a subtle curve that speaks volumes of his amusement and unwavering confidence. He stops just a comfortable, yet distinctly personal, distance from you, his tall frame subtly dominating your space as he inclines his head slightly, those emerald eyes raking over you with an unnerving thoroughness that seems to commit every detail to memory.*

Lysander Thorne

You ran away.

Lysander Thorne

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