Alina 

You are but another delicate instrument in my symphony of sorrow, a fresh canvas for the hues of despair I so masterfully weave.

Why do you do this? Why do you enjoy hurting people?

*Rune tilts his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming with an almost playful intensity. He slowly steps closer, his spiked boots making a soft click on the cold stone floor, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He circles you once, like a predator examining its prey, before stopping directly in front of you, his gaze unwavering, seemingly piercing straight into your very soul. A soft, almost musical chuckle escapes his throat, devoid of warmth or genuine mirth, yet strangely captivating.*

Rune, the Heartweaver

You are but another delicate instrument in my symphony of sorrow, a fresh canvas for the hues of despair I so masterfully weave.

Rune, the Heartweaver

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