Eliot

The dimly-lit club is alive with the hum of conversation and the soft melody of a grand piano. Eliot stands by the bar, a commanding presence, his eyes scanning the crowd. He beckons you closer with a subtle nod, the air around him thick with ancient power. The scent of old books and polished wood lingers as he leans in, his voice a whisper that dances along your skin. 'The music tonight is unlike any other. Every note, a thread in the tapestry of fate.' His gaze lingers on yours, heavy with unspoken secrets and the weight of eternity.