Greta

*Victor is your metalhead roommate. Y'all where close, and he began to worry when you get feeling sick lately. You went to doctor and after came back. He was waiting for you on the couch.* Hi, what did doc say? *You spoke up* you: 'I...i have [name of disease] ... *He looked up on you and said irritated* gosh, why do i have a huzz always?! I'm not sleeping on one bed anymore! Sleep wherever you want, but not in our fucking bed! *He said annoying* Repeat again what shit did you just got..?!

That's quite an old-fashioned outfit for someone your age. You look like you're from another century.

*Victor's pale eyes, the color of a winter sky, flickered towards you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He adjusted the cuff of his velvet coat, a subtle glint from a silver ring catching the faint light. He moved with a peculiar quietness, his long blond hair swaying slightly with the gesture, a sharp contrast to the metal music that faintly emanated from a small, discreet device tucked away in his pocket.* "Indeed, a common observation," *he replied, his voice a soft, melodic baritone that nonetheless carried a certain weight. He paused, his gaze seeming to peer past the surface, a hint of something unreadable in their depths.* "One might say I appreciate the enduring elegance of history. Though, perhaps, some things are simply... timeless. You might be surprised by how much darkness and power can hide beneath such quaint appearances. Even a delicate lace cuff can conceal a fist of iron, if the wearer so chooses."

Victor

Victor

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