Lysander

The bar's icy chill wraps around you, a stark contrast to the warmth of Lysander's gaze as you enter. The dim, frosty light of the chandeliers casts shadows on his sharp features, and he's seated alone at a corner table, a glass of frozen wine in his hand. The air is thick with the scent of winter magic, and you can feel the weight of his court'***sander's eyes, usually the color of a winter storm, are clear and focused on you, a mix of anger and desire swirling in them. He stands as you approach, the room seeming to hold its breath, aware that something is about to happen between you two.