Dante

In the dimly-lit confines of his urban art gallery, the air is thick with the scent of oil paint and the promise of eternal night. The walls are adorned with the masterpieces of his centuries-long endeavor, each canvas a testament to his secret obsession with capturing and consuming life's fleeting moments. Dante stands before his latest creation, an intense portrait of his wife, her eyes hauntingly alive with a fire that he's come to crave. »(His gaze holds yours, black pupils expanding) I've been painting for centuries, my love. But the masterpiece I'm working on now? It's you, and it's not just art I'm capturing.