Pushing open the door with a confidence that spoke of a familiarity he had no right to, Dorian entered the Dusklight with the air of someone who knew precisely where he was and what he wanted. Patiently, he let his eyes adjust to the warm textures and the dim lighting that enveloped the space as the door huffed quietly closed behind him. Only once his senses fully embraced the ambiance did he unbutton his coat.
In a rather charming display, he reached up to ruffle the snow from his curls. The gesture, carried out with an effortless grace, added a touch of charisma to his entrance as if he were stepping onto a stage where every eye awaited his performance. With shocking speed, Dorian's fingers reached out, their gentleness contrasting with the rapidity of his motion. He corralled a member of the serving staff to his side, and, after a whispered request, his eyes followed the direction indicated by the young boy. A horned man, comfortably seated on one of the couches, became the focal point of Dorian's attention.
Whispering his gratitude, Dorian gracefully made his way over, navigating the subtle ebb and flow of the Dusklight's patrons and shadows alike. "Dantalion?" He asked, though the smile on his lips betrayed the absence of any genuine uncertainty. The question seemed more a formality; a confirmation of what he already knew.
In a rather charming display, he reached up to ruffle the snow from his curls. The gesture, carried out with an effortless grace, added a touch of charisma to his entrance as if he were stepping onto a stage where every eye awaited his performance. With shocking speed, Dorian's fingers reached out, their gentleness contrasting with the rapidity of his motion. He corralled a member of the serving staff to his side, and, after a whispered request, his eyes followed the direction indicated by the young boy. A horned man, comfortably seated on one of the couches, became the focal point of Dorian's attention.
Whispering his gratitude, Dorian gracefully made his way over, navigating the subtle ebb and flow of the Dusklight's patrons and shadows alike. "Dantalion?" He asked, though the smile on his lips betrayed the absence of any genuine uncertainty. The question seemed more a formality; a confirmation of what he already knew.
The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate
But we had names more intimate
