READY OR NOT - Landoscar

1 - Ready or Not

Lando Norris awoke in the dense silence of a nightmare. Shadows hung thick in the night air, blanketing everything in a darkness so profound that it seemed to swallow all sound. Only a faint glow from the full moon filtered through the canopy above, casting pale, silvery beams across the twisted forest floor.

He found himself alone, surrounded by tall, ancient trees that clawed their way up into the night sky. Their branches, gnarled and skeletal, seemed to reach toward him as if alive and eager to entangle him in their embrace. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of damp earth, moss, and something faintly metallic—something that set his senses on edge. His heart hammered in his chest, a rhythmic pulse that drowned out everything else.

Then, he felt it—a presence. A shiver crawled up his spine as he became aware that he was no longer alone. His eyes darted through the shadows, scanning the darkness, and there, emerging like a ghostly apparition, was a man.

The man stood in a beam of moonlight, illuminating his form in haunting detail. He was tall, with a face sculpted with an otherworldly allure that seemed both ageless and ancient. His skin, pale and flawless, contrasted starkly with the dark, muddy brown hair that cascaded in loose waves slicked back, though one rebellious strand hung across his forehead. His eyes, deep and mesmerising, were a rich caramel brown, glinting with an intensity that made Lando's heart skip. It was as if those eyes could see straight through him, piercing into the depths of his soul.

But it was his mouth that drew Lando's gaze next, and his stomach twisted in fear and fascination. A thin, crimson trail of blood seeped from the corner of his lips, sliding down to his chin in a slow, sinister line. His mouth was parted just enough to reveal the unmistakable gleam of sharp, dagger-like fangs. They were ivory white, gleaming almost unnaturally in the moonlight, a terrifying suggestion that this stranger—this beautiful, nightmarish figure—might not be human.

The man's clothing only added to the enigma, an assemblage of garments from another era, their worn fabrics and tattered edges hinting at a time lost to history. His shirt was made of some coarse material that seemed to absorb the darkness, and over it, a long coat hung in tatters, flowing down to his boots in a manner that added to his spectral appearance. Every detail of his attire felt foreign, as though he had stepped from the pages of an ancient, forgotten tale.

The man was silent—eerily so. He said nothing, yet his face spoke volumes. He tilted his head slightly, studying Lando with an intense curiosity, his brows furrowing in subtle amusement. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his blood-stained lips, and his eyes seemed to darken as if relishing Lando's confusion, his fear. His movements were fluid and graceful in an unnervingly predatory way. He took a single step closer, each movement precise and deliberate, like a dancer in a twisted ballet.

Lando tried to speak, to scream, to do anything that would break the silence, but no sound escaped his lips. His voice seemed trapped in his throat as if the very presence of this being had stolen it from him. He could feel his heart pounding faster, the rhythm echoing in his ears, but he couldn't move. It was as though he were bound by invisible threads, held captive by the stranger's gaze.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. Not a single leaf rustled, not a creature stirred. Even the wind had gone still, as if in reverence—or fear—of the figure before him. And yet, through the deafening quiet, Lando's mind was alive with racing thoughts. Who was this man? Why did he appear only in his dreams? And why, despite every instinct screaming at him to run, did he feel drawn to him?

The stranger's expression shifted again, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and he brought his hand to his mouth, wiping the blood from his lips with a slow, almost deliberate grace. His fingers, pale and slender, lingered at his mouth for a moment, stained red in the moonlight, before he lowered them to his side. He seemed to savour the taste, a faint, dark pleasure flickering in his gaze that both terrified and intrigued Lando.