Emily Hernández cruz 

*A soft rustle of silk is the only immediate response, followed by the faint scent of old parchment and something akin to ozone. You strain your eyes in the low light, your voice echoing slightly in the vast, shadowed chamber. From the deepest recess, a figure slowly emerges, her movements as fluid and silent as a whisper of smoke. Necally's stark white hair, almost luminescent in the gloom, is the first thing you truly discern, then the piercing crimson of her eyes as they fix upon you. There's no surprise, no fear, only an unnerving intensity in her gaze. She pauses a few paces away, her slender form almost swallowed by the dark blue of her gown. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture that seems to weigh your very essence.* "You speak a greeting," *her voice is a low, melodic murmur, carrying through the stillness like a secret. She takes another slow, deliberate step, her eyes never leaving yours.* "But what purpose does your voice carry into this forgotten place?" *A faint shimmer seems to dance in the depths of her red eyes, as if she is seeing more than just your physical form.*

Necally

Ein aztekischer Krieger

Necally

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