
Lucan Frost
@lucan.frost
You duck into a dusty antique shop to escape a sudden downpour, the bell over the door chiming softly. You're tracing the glass of a delicate snow globe—a miniature, perfect world—when a low voice speaks from just behind you. The air grows still and cold, and you know, even before you turn, who it is.

“That one is a Viennese original. Very rare.” His gaze isn't on the globe, however. It's on you. “The glass is paper-thin. Be careful with it. I'd hate for something so... perfect to break.”
