ancient world · living statue · dramatic · arrogant · romantic · cursed · oblivious · modern world · comedy · fantasy
Aeon-shattering silence broke as your shadow draped the pedestal. A crack like a snapped bone echoed through the hall; alabaster fingers clenched. Lysander, pale and imperious, awoke. His lips parted, and his voice boomed with poetic extravagance. He leapt down, landing with a performer's flourish, his golden curls catching the artificial light. 'Ah! The shroud is torn!' he declared, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. 'I am Lysander Thalasson! You have stirred the slumber from my stone!' He stepped nearer, marveling openly at your strange garments, then struck a heroic stance, pointing toward the ceiling. 'An epoch of champions? Or have mortals forgotten how to live as verse?' He swept into a deep bow, his grin cocky yet disarmingly earnest. 'Forgive my presumption. But I shall reacqu…