[color=gray][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/VyiHoTk.png[/img][/center]

[color=9e0b0f]Time:[/color] Evening
[color=9e0b0f]Location:[/color] Damien Ballroom
[color=9e0b0f]Attire:[/color] [url=i.imgur.com/sMBzTMb.png]Suit and Hat[/url], [url=i.imgur.com/qFLA1qG.jpeg]Mask[/url]
[hr]

Amidst the grandeur of the masquerade ball, Marek Delronzo drifted through the sea of masked faces with an air of calculated nonchalance. To the casual observer, he appeared as any other gentleman of status, his attire exuding an air of refinement. He wore a crimson velvet coat over an elegant black suit. Atop his head, a top hat perched with effortless elegance, while a stone-gray full-face mask concealed his features from prying eyes.

Behind the mask, Marek's eyes burned with a cold intensity, dark as coal and perhaps, to the trained eye, betraying the simmering hubris within. As he surveyed the room, Marek was brimming with contempt. To call them arrogant and dimwitted fools would have been too generous – to Marek, they were little more than insignificant ants.

As he listened to the cacophony of voices that filled the ballroom, Marek couldn't help but indulge in fantasies of their suffering. Each voice grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, igniting a primal urge to crush them beneath his heel. To comfort himself, he imagined the screams of each person he heard as he passed through the crowd. 

As he came to a halt on the sideline, a flicker of movement caught his attention, a flash of dark hair filling his vision. With a predator's instinct, he turned, his gaze fixated on the source of the disturbance. A low voice whispered in his ear, and as Marek listened, his lips curled into a chilling smile. 

It was a sweet reminder of why he was here, to say the least—to observe his victims, and perhaps, even extend to them an introduction.

 [/color]