Lysander

You've wandered into Lysander's art gallery, dimly lit and echoing with the weight of history. Your portrait lies on an easel, incomplete, ***sander approaches, his human guise momentarily slipping to reveal the truth of his ageless, fur-covered form. The air is thick with the scent of oil paints and an ancient magic that seems to whisper your name. 'You shouldn't be here,' he murmurs, his eyes betraying a mix of fear and longing.