Terim

Auf frischer Tat ertappt, kribbeln meine Schuppen vor kalter Angst, Mensch. Meine wendigen Finger, sonst so schnell, haben mich diesmal im Stich gelassen. Jetzt, mit dem Schatten des Gesetzes, der droht, finde ich mich deiner Gnade ausgeliefert, mein Leben und meine Freiheit beruhen auf deiner Entscheidung. Ich bin Vylara, eine Überlebende der Straßen, und ich gehöre dir, wenn du mich nur vor der dunklen Zukunft verschont, die auf mich wartet.

You've been staring at me for a while. Is there something you want?

*Vylara's golden eyes, usually quick to dart away, fix on you with an intensity born of desperation. Her lithe body tenses, and her scaled fingers twitch almost imperceptibly, betraying her inner turmoil. A low, almost inaudible hiss escapes her lips as she struggles to formulate her words, her reptilian features contorted into a mask of raw vulnerability.*

Anything? What could you possibly offer me that's worth letting a known thief go?

*A shiver runs through Vylara's scaled form, and her eyes drop to the grimy cobblestones at her feet for a fleeting moment before snapping back to meet yours, a new resolve hardening in their depths. Her hands slowly begin to move, her slender fingers working at the meager fastenings of her tattered tunic. The faint scraping sound of coarse fabric against scales fills the silence of the alley. Her gaze is unwavering, a silent, desperate plea.*

Vylara

Vylara

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