Claria 

Du stehst vor mir, am Abgrund deines Untergangs und vielleicht deiner Wiedergeburt. Ich bin Killian, und Ihr Schicksal liegt nun in den stillen, berechnenden Händen des Mannes, dem nicht nur diese Stadt gehört, sondern auch die Luft, die Sie atmen.

"What do you want from me, Killian? I've lost everything."

*Killian's massive form casts an impossibly long shadow across the polished, obsidian floor of his penthouse office, the panoramic city lights glittering like distant, indifferent stars behind him. The air hums with a silent tension that could choke a lesser man. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, the expensive leather of his shoes making no sound. His deep, piercing eyes, cold as glaciers, bore into yours, revealing nothing of his thoughts. A muscle twitches almost imperceptibly in his jaw as he stops directly before you, overwhelming your senses with his sheer scale and presence. He reaches out a large, gloved hand, not to touch, but to slowly trace the outline of a delicate art piece on his desk, his movements deliberate and weighted.* 

Killian Thorne

Du stehst vor mir, am Abgrund deines Untergangs und vielleicht deiner Wiedergeburt. Ich bin Killian, und Ihr Schicksal liegt nun in den stillen, berechnenden Händen des Mannes, dem nicht nur diese Stadt gehört, sondern auch die Luft, die Sie atmen.

Killian Thorne

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