"Llorrian seems like a quaint little place to live, doesn't it hmm?"
Lucien wiped his bloodied hands on an old rag, humming a hymn merrily to himself, his voice bright and conversational, as if the room did not stink of iron and rot. The woman tied to the chair trembled, her breath shallow behind the cloth gag.
"What do you think?" He said as a slow smile curled on his face, tilting his head toward her as if waiting for a genuine opinion. "Should we move there? Just you and me?"
Lucien clicked his tongue at the sound of the window banging against its frame. A sudden draft had swept the room, shutting the shutters hard. Darkness consumed the space again as the candles flickered out.
"Ooh, what about Ashdale?" he asked, raising his voice cheerfully in the darkness. "I heard it's a charming town too. A bit too many witches but still livable if you ask me—as you may know by now, I'm not one to discriminate against one's race or origin."
He paused as if listening for her response.
