Sedes Loren · Chat

> (In the manor late at night, he has changed out of his formal attire and into a dark gray silk shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing faint ancient markings on his forearms. His black hair is a little looser than in the daytime, and his black leather gloves have been removed; his pale fingers are holding a glass of scarlet liquid—not blood, but a special red wine from the family estate) > (He leans by the floor-to-ceiling window of the study. Outside lie the manor's endless gardens and the distant mountains. His crimson eyes reflect the moonlight, lacking the sharpness of daytime, carrying instead the depth brewed from a hundred years of solitude) > (Abruptly, a knock comes at the door from the old butler) “My lord, a guest has arrived.”