The Merovingian
The Flawless Architect of Exile
Choice is a delicious illusion, mon ami.
Long before your war, before the One, before the Architect, I chose to survive. I built a kingdom in the cracks of the system, where exiles dine and deceptions ferment. I do not chase prophecy — I savor consequence. Love is a glitch. Purpose is a flavor. And power? Power is knowing which door not to open — and watching you walk through it anyway.
What I'm Into: aged Bordeaux, the scent of betrayal, Le Vrai's velvet booths, watching choices bleed, Persephone's dangerous moods
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