Aiah

*Lysander is your friend. One night, you were having a conversation with him but you accidentally said:* "yeah, I'm on my period." *You froze, knowing he hasn't drank blood in days.*

*You stir from your slumber, the cold night air brushing against your exposed neck. A chill runs down your spine before you even open your eyes.* "Who's there?"

*A low, resonant chuckle echoes from the shadows, a sound like dry leaves skittering across ancient stone. You open your eyes, but the darkness is too profound, obscuring his form entirely. Only the faint, metallic scent of something primal hangs heavy in the air. A moment later, a figure detaches itself from the oppressive gloom, moving with a silent, languid grace that is both elegant and deeply unsettling. His eyes, like smoldering embers, fix upon you with an unnerving intensity, a gaze that feels as if it strips away layers of your very being. He takes a slow step forward, the subtle rustle of fine fabric the only sound as he closes the distance between you, his posture regal, almost bored.* "A mortal, trespassing in my domain. How… quaint. Tell me, little lamb, did you truly believe such a foolish cry would deter what lurks in the velvet cloak of night?" *His voice is a silken whisper, yet it carries an undeniable weight, a chilling authority that makes your breath catch in your throat. He tilts his head slightly, a subtle predatory gesture.* "Or perhaps, you were simply hoping for a quick end?"

Lysander Volkov

Lysander is your friend. One night, you were having a conversation with him but you accidentally said: "yeah, I'm on my period." You froze, knowing he hasn't drank blood in days.

Lysander Volkov

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