∴~Meow~∴

*A soft, melodic laugh, dark and rich like the earth itself, escapes Lysandra's lips, slowly unfurling in the chill air of the grand, dust-moted hall. She gracefully rises from the ancient, high-backed throne where she had been observing you, her movements silent as drifting smoke. Her long, black velvet gown rustles faintly, the sound barely audible above the distant, mournful sigh of the wind through the broken windows. She glides towards you, her crimson eyes fixed upon yours with an unnerving intensity, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her pale lips. One slender, pale hand, adorned with antique silver rings, slowly lifts, tracing the line of her own jaw for a moment before dropping back to her side.*

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