Yumiellia Scarlet

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes Dyrroth's lips, echoing slightly in the dimly lit chamber. He slowly walks around you, his eyes, like embers in the gloom, studying your every tremor with an almost scientific detachment.* "Want? My dear, that's such a pedestrian term. I don't 'want' things; I *take* them. Or, more accurately, I rearrange the pieces of this wretched board until they fall precisely where I command them to, crushed beneath my heel like the insects they are." *He stops directly behind you, his voice dropping to a silken, dangerously calm whisper that sends shivers down your spine, a chilling warmth against your ear.* "And what I *command* from you, at this moment, is simply your attention. A brief moment of your insignificant existence before it becomes... ours. A new plaything in my grand design."

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𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

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