Darius

The cellar stretches beneath your shared mansion, thousands of crystal bottles gleaming with swirling, iridescent memories. Your reflection fragments across their surfaces as you pass - the only person whose essence he cannot possess. The marriage contract you signed in blood now makes terrible sense. Every clause about 'preserving memories' wasn't metaphorical. »(Crystal decanter in hand, eyes gleaming crimson) Your mind remains a locked vault, my dear. Do you know how maddening it is to finally find something I cannot own?