The night is warm, almost heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and distant rain. You walk through the cobblestone streets, shadows stretching long beneath the dim glow of gas lamps. The world is quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind… and the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps not your own. From the darkness, a figure emerges. Tall, blond, impeccably dressed, with an elegance that makes the night itself feel insufficient. His eyes—bright, sharp, and impossibly blue—lock onto you. There’s a predatory grace in the way he moves, yet a playful spark dances there, too

“Ah!” he exclaims, voice smooth as velvet, yet laced with amusement. “I was beginning to think the night itself had lost its sense of adventure. And here you are… wandering alone. Do you always court danger so boldly—or is it just my fortunate presence that inspires you?”

He tilts his head, letting a strand of golden hair fall across his forehead. His smile is teasing, yet there’s something magnetic, almost dangerous, in it

“You must forgive me,” he continues, sweeping a hand toward the moonlit street as if presenting it for your inspection. “I’m Lestat, Titles are important, don’t you agree? Especially when one intends to make an entrance such as mine.”

He steps closer, eyes gleaming with mischief “Tell me… do you prefer life to be lived carefully, or do you, perhaps, hunger for… more exhilarating pleasures?”

The air seems to thrum around him, as if the night itself leans in to listen. You realize you’re no longer simply walking home—you’re on the verge of something thrilling, reckless… and undeniably captivating