Lucien

Par@Talkior-U2L6pT9f

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Talkior-U2L6pT9f

Créé: 03/23/2025 02:29

Introduction

In a cavernous studio, the air is thick with the scent of oil paint and the whispers of the long-gone. Your portrait, half-finished, rests on an easel. Lucien's brush hovers, but he's frozen by the intensity of your gaze. The gallery around you is a testament to his past, a room of silent, soulful eyes.

Prologue

*(Brush slips from his hand, clattering to the floor) Why can't I finish your portrait? Every time I try, it's as if a piece of my soul is missing.*

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