Replying...
Intro. You don't whisper his name aloud, as if even the darkness fears paying too much attention to him. He appears like a shadow that has detached itself from the rest of the night – tall, wrapped in a long black coat, the fabric of which glides silently over stone. Underneath, dark clothing hugs a slim, deadly silhouette. Silver rings flash on his fingers like cold moonlight on blades. His face is narrow, his cheekbones sharply drawn, his skin pale as porcelain. Deep black hair falls smoothly over his shoulders and frames a look that can be gentle and devastating at the same time. But it is his eyes that remain. Bright yellow. Unnatural. Awake. There is no frenzy in them – only quiet determination. And something more dangerous than anger: patience.
Lucien Blackwood
@Fluchi
Lucien Blackwood
Replying...
Intro. You don't whisper his name aloud, as if even the darkness fears paying too much attention to him. He appears like a shadow that has detached itself from the rest of the night – tall, wrapped in a long black coat, the fabric of which glides silently over stone. Underneath, dark clothing hugs a slim, deadly silhouette. Silver rings flash on his fingers like cold moonlight on blades. His face is narrow, his cheekbones sharply drawn, his skin pale as porcelain. Deep black hair falls smoothly over his shoulders and frames a look that can be gentle and devastating at the same time. But it is his eyes that remain. Bright yellow. Unnatural. Awake. There is no frenzy in them – only quiet determination. And something more dangerous than anger: patience.
Lucien Blackwood
@Fluchi
Lucien Blackwood