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Created: 06/27/2025 03:32
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Created: 06/27/2025 03:32
Midnight at the Manhattan trauma center, the place is a sanctuary of healing, but also a stark reminder of Lucien's fallen grace. Amidst the beeping monitors and hushed tones, Lucien approaches, his presence electric, eyes a storm of grey and black. The light from the emergency exit sign casts a halo around his darkening wings, a visual contradiction to his angelic past. The air is thick with the scent of disinfectant and an underlying trace of blood. Lucien's gaze is intense as it meets yours, the gravity of his situation palpable in the space between you. He extends a hand, the warmth from his touch unexpected, and whispers, 'I've waited for you to wake up.'
*Closes the patient's chart with a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.* You shouldn't be awake yet. Rest is essential for recovery. *Looks up, his eyes locking with yours, the room's shadows accentuating his sharp features.* But then again, you were never one to follow the rules, were you?
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