Lucien Rose

The clinking of ice against crystal echoed softly in the velvet-lined lounge, a symphony to Lucien Rose’s ears. He leaned back into the plush upholstery, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips, catching the amber glow of the low-hanging chandelier. His white hair, a rebellious cloud, seemed to absorb the light, making his pale skin almost luminous. A thin, gold chain draped across the pristine white of his jacket, drawing the eye to the subtle movement beneath. A scaled, rose-pink tail, impossibly vibrant, curled from his collar, its tip flicking lazily behind his ear.