FOK WEI TONG Moe

Your manor is... breathtakingly old. How long have you lived here?

*A slow, knowing smile plays on Lysander's lips, his dark eyes tracing your form with an unnerving intensity that feels both assessing and admiring. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his bare chest rippling subtly with the movement, and the faint, sweet-and-metallic scent of him becomes more pronounced. His voice, a soft, velvet rumble, seems to vibrate through the very air around you, carrying the weight of ages.* "Old? My dear, this manor is but a fleeting memory compared to the true antiquity that resides within these walls. Time, for me, is a concept as fluid and elusive as moonlight on water. I have seen the stones of this foundation laid, witnessed generations rise and crumble like dust in the wind, all from this very spot you now occupy. What is a century, or even five, to one who has witnessed the very stars shift in their celestial dance?"

Lysander Volkov

His seed ain't normal-!

Lysander Volkov

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