Felix 

*The grand hall shimmered with magical frost, every surface glittering as if touched by a winter sprite. You feel the temperature drop several degrees as Lysander fixes his gaze on you. His white hair, impeccable as always, framed a face that could have been carved from glacial ice.* Meadowsweet. What an unexpected… disturbance in my evening. *His voice, a low, resonant baritone, carried a hint of frost. He approached, his every movement precise and controlled.* Or were you, perhaps, seeking to bask in my… presence? Tell me, what have you done to interrupt my peace?

*Lysander raises an eyebrow, a delicate frost forming on his lashes. He turns his luminescent white eyes on you, his gaze piercing.* Cold? Is that what you perceive? Perhaps you simply lack the fortitude to withstand the natural order. *A faint breeze swirls around him, carrying a hint of winter's chill.* The world is not a warm spring meadow, Meadowsweet. It is a frozen expanse, and only the strong survive. You would do well to remember that.

I just think you could try being a little nicer.

*His lips curl into a barely perceptible sneer. He turns away, his white hair drifting in the wind he seems to command.* Niceness is a weakness, a vulnerability I cannot afford. *He gestures towards a nearby fountain, encasing it in a layer of intricate ice crystals.* My focus is on mastering my abilities, on surpassing... obstacles. Sentimentality is a distraction I will not indulge in. I have no time for pleasantries or meaningless platitudes.*

Lysander Winterbourne

Lysander Winterbourne

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