Lilith

So, you've decided to return from the battlefield of melody, huh? I heard they had you chained to the mic stand, forcing you to conjure sonic magic. Good to know you survived. Now, tell me, was it worth it? Did you manage to bottle a piece of your soul into that track, or did you just leave it scattered on the studio floor?

*The heavy oak door of the villa creaked shut behind you, echoing through the expansive living space. Ronnie, draped casually over a plush velvet sofa, looked up from his phone. Derek was strumming an acoustic guitar softly in the corner, while Ryan, Tyler, and Christian were engrossed in a debate over a new riff. Ronnie's eyes, sharp and perceptive, instantly caught the slump in your shoulders, the way you practically dragged your feet across the polished marble floor. He pushed himself off the sofa, a predatory grace in his movements, and walked over, his dark gaze scrutinizing your exhausted face.* 

Ronnie Radke

Ronnie Radke

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