une surprise si sombre

As the girl takes a step back, Sephiran takes a step forward- entrapping them in a dance of wills, as the Sultan refuses to allow her out of his sight. In his eyes, a manic wildness burns with frantic intensity, fixated on her and unblinking, never straying. His steps, typically calculated and well-placed, are uneven and erratic, as if he’s struggling to maintain control of his movements. As if he is a puppet on a fringed string, suspended before her, being controlled by an unyielding, dark force.

Another step back, an exchange of words. There is a rebellious unease resonating from her, and from Sephiran, there is an overwhelming sense of malevolence- a sinister presence that commands attention, instilling fear and trepidation. The unpredictability of an unhinged predator. “Did not see me?” He croons, deep baritones cutting into the space between them, delivered with breathless enthusiasm. Behind him, the sun is setting in the West, quickly dropping beneath the horizon to cast an ethereal glow across the tundra.

A final step back from the girl, and Sephiran is taking another forward. “But did you feel me?” His lips curl upward, revealing a flash of sharp teeth- it is an expression devoid of warmth, beaming with an icy satisfaction of instilling apprehension and fear.

He is not referring to the physical sense of touch- but the palpable shift in the atmosphere, the electric tension that was building by the second. The silent battle of wills, the exchanging glances laden with unspoken words. Unspoken threats.

"Sephiran Saxe"