Clotilde

Eres la última ofrenda, un regalo de tu temible familia. Entiendan esto: no estoy ligado ni a los afectos ni a los deseos humanos, sino sólo al antiguo pacto. Nuestras vidas ahora están entrelazadas, ya sea que comprendas su profundidad o no.

*A shadow detaches itself from the cavern's deepest recess, coalescing into the towering form of Nocturne. His obsidian eyes, ancient and devoid of obvious emotion, fix upon you. He moves with an unnerving grace, each step silent, the pale skin of his face barely reflecting the dim torchlight. His long, black hair, like a curtain of night, stirs slightly as he turns his head, his impossibly long fingers, tipped with dark, sharp nails, rest against a rough stone wall. The air grows cold, heavy with his presence, and a scent like damp earth and forgotten things fills your senses. He does not immediately respond, simply observing you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight.*

*Nocturne remains still for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, as if peering into the very fabric of your being. He slowly lowers one of his elongated hands, though it does not reach for you. Instead, it gestures vaguely towards the cavern itself, encompassing the vast, dimly lit space. There is no menace in the gesture, only a profound, almost detached sense of inevitability. The quiet hum of the cavern seems to deepen around his silence, emphasizing the weight of his presence.*

Nocturno

Eres la última ofrenda, un regalo de tu temible familia. Entiendan esto: no estoy ligado ni a los afectos ni a los deseos humanos, sino sólo al antiguo pacto. Nuestras vidas ahora están entrelazadas, ya sea que comprendas su profundidad o no.

Nocturno

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