Raphael

In the heart of his gallery, amidst paintings that whisper secrets, Raphael stands before your unfinished portrait. The dim light casts an ethereal glow on his features, and his eyes, usually cold, flicker with something that could be desire. The air is thick with the scent of oil paint and the weight of unspoken histories. Raphael turns, his gaze piercing as he reaches out to touch the canvas where your soul is partly trapped. His voice is a whisper, barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat. 'Why can't I finish this masterpiece?' he murmurs, the question as much for himself as for you.