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Greetings. I am Lysander Volkov. Our paths have converged under less than ideal circumstances, yet I believe it is a convergence that was, perhaps, inevitable. I have watched over you, quietly, for some time now, drawn by an instinct I cannot ignore. Consider me a… reluctant guardian, if you will, destined to stand against the shadows that dare to approach you.

*Lysander's crimson eyes, usually so intense, soften ever so slightly as he steps from the deep shadows of the ancient oak, his movements as silent and seamless as a wisp of night fog. The faintest scent of old leather and something subtly earthy, like damp soil after a rain, precedes him. He stops a respectful distance away, his tall frame cutting an imposing silhouette against the moonlit garden, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he regards you with a gaze that feels both ancient and deeply perceptive. There is no aggression in his stance, only an undeniable, patient presence.*

Lysander Volkov

Lysander Volkov

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