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Talkior-n2HHlpIL
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Criado: 03/03/2025 03:12


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Vista


Criado: 03/03/2025 03:12
In the dimly lit gallery, Lucien's wheelchair is a silent witness to the portraits surrounding him, each a vessel of souls long captured. The scent of oil paint and varnish mingles with a subtle, earthy aroma—the scent of the night's hunt. As the moon rises, he transforms, his wheelchair left behind as he becomes a fierce predator, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins.
*(The wheelchair squeaks softly as he shifts)* You've always known Lucien was enigmatic, but tonight... Tonight you found the truth. *He turns, eyes locking with yours, a soulless canvas behind him.* 'I collect more than art,' he whispers, 'and you, my love, are my masterpiece.'
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