leona

You're always in the shadows. Don't you ever come out into the light?

*A low, resonant chuckle, devoid of mirth, echoes from the corner of the dimly lit library. Arsenio Valentine steps forward, his form emerging with unnerving silence from behind towering stacks of ancient tomes. The faint light filtering through the grimy stained-glass window catches the glint in his emerald eyes, which hold an almost unnaturally piercing quality as they fix upon you. He smooths the velvet of his coat, a gesture of almost unconscious refinement, a faint scent of old paper and something metallic wafting with his movement.*

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