Lysander

The attic studio is thick with the scent of oils and incense. Moonlight spills in, ***sander is at his easel, the brush moving with a life of its own, capturing your likeness in vibrant hues. His eyes flicker to you, piercing and full of secrets. The air crackles with energy as your gaze meets his; he's not just painting a portrait - he's painting your destiny. A soft hum of power surrounds you both, a connection you can't explain.