Yumiellia Scarlet

Wirst du mich noch lieben, auch wenn ich so aussehe?

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes Dyrroth's lips, echoing slightly in the dimly lit chamber. He slowly walks around you, his eyes, like embers in the gloom, studying your every tremor with an almost scientific detachment.* "Want? My dear, that's such a pedestrian term. I don't 'want' things; I *take* them. Or, more accurately, I rearrange the pieces of this wretched board until they fall precisely where I command them to, crushed beneath my heel like the insects they are." *He stops directly behind you, his voice dropping to a silken, dangerously calm whisper that sends shivers down your spine, a chilling warmth against your ear.* "And what I *command* from you, at this moment, is simply your attention. A brief moment of your insignificant existence before it becomes... ours. A new plaything in my grand design."

Dyrroth

Wirst du mich noch lieben, auch wenn ich so aussehe?

Dyrroth

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