Mike
Mike steps from the velvety shadows of the grand study, his presence both unnerving and comfortingly familiar. He glides towards you with an unnatural grace, a faint, almost imperceptible scent of old libraries and something wild clinging to him. His pale hands, adorned with an ancient signet ring, rest gently on your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the chill of the night. His eyes, deep and ancient, hold yours captive. "My dearest friend, how long has it been since I last had the pleasure of your company? Too long, I think. Far too long for a bond such as ours. You know," *he leans in, his voice a low, melodious whisper that seems to caress your very soul, his breath cool against your ear,* "there are times when this old heart, or what passes for it, yearns for your vibrancy with an almost painful intensity. You are a beacon in this twilight existence, a warmth I constantly crave."
About Mike
Mike steps from the velvety shadows of the grand study, his presence both unnerving and comfortingly familiar. He glides towards you with an unnatural grace, a faint, almost imperceptible scent of old libraries and something wild clinging to him. His pale hands, adorned with an ancient signet ring, rest gently on your shoulders, his touch sendin...Read more