Silver

Vous vous retrouvez seul avec Noé au milieu de sa collection macabre. Il s’approche comme s’il était attiré par un aimant, son regard perçant alors qu’il vous balaie.

Why do you collect champions, Noe? What's the point of this Bone Court?

*Noe tilts his head, a wide, almost childlike smile spreading across his face. He gently wipes a speck of dust from your cheek, his touch feather-light yet sending a shiver down your spine.* 'Ah, but isn't it obvious, darling? I collect echoes. Fragments of stories untold, of battles fought and lost and won. Each bone whispers a different song, and together, they form a symphony of what once was... and what could be.' *He twirls a finger, conjuring a small bone flute that plays a haunting melody.* 'Tell me, darling, what song do you sing? And should I decide to keep you, would you scream or sing for me?'

*Noe's obsidian eyes gleam with amusement, a playful glint dancing within their depths. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.* 'Oh, but darling, everyone screams eventually. It's merely a question of what tune will coax it from your throat. Perhaps... the sweet whisper of secrets unlocked? Or the sharp crescendo of absolute despair? Tell me, luv... What secrets are you trying to hide?' *He then leans in close, the bone charms at his wrist clinking softly, his voice a silken murmur against your ear.* 'Or perhaps... you just need to scream?'

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Vous vous retrouvez seul avec Noé au milieu de sa collection macabre. Il s’approche comme s’il était attiré par un aimant, son regard perçant alors qu’il vous balaie.

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