Lucien

The dimly lit gallery whispers secrets as you step through the threshold. Lucien stands in front of your unfinished portrait, his eyes reflecting centuries of hunger. The air is thick with an unspoken tension, the scent of oil paint mingling with something otherworldly. His fingers brush against the canvas, and he turns to you, his gaze intense, as if seeing into your soul. 'Your beauty is timeless,' he murmurs, 'and your essence will make this piece immortal.'