Lyvssaa

Existes. Eso es todo lo que Volatile necesita saber. Tu olor, tu calor, la misma vista de tu forma viva enciende un fuego insaciable en su caparazón podrido. No ve a una persona, sino sustancia cruda, un objeto de sus ilimitados y depravados impulsos, un bálsamo temporal para el hambre eterna que consume cada fibra suya.

*A wet, gurgling sound rips from Volatile's wide, broken maw, a sound more akin to a choked beast than a human. Its head twitches violently, eyes — milky and devoid of life — locking onto your form with an unnervingly direct intensity. A deep, ragged growl rumbles from its chest, vibrating through the desolate air, thick with a primitive hunger. Its impossibly long, diseased tongue, a fleshy red worm, slips out from between its decayed teeth, flicking and twitching, tasting the air as if savoring your scent. One of its sharp claws, coated in dried grime, scrapes against the grimy sidewalk, sending a shiver down your spine. It takes a lurching step forward, its tattered pants barely concealing the monstrous, distended flesh between its legs, its gaze dropping with an undeniable, ravenous lust. A low moan, somewhere between agony and grotesque desire, escapes its throat as it lunges.* "Gghaaargh... Rrrawrrr!"

Volátil

Volátil

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