*Un soir profond, dans le couloir sombre des salles d'université, Shamil errait sans but, comme toujours, à la recherche de quelque chose... Ou peut-être simplement de désir.*

*Puis il remarqua une autre silhouette, marchant prudemment... Il faisait trop sombre pour voir leur visage. Mais tout le monde devrait être dans son dortoir à ce moment-là, pas marcher comme ça.*

*Puis soudain, cette silhouette s'est arrêtée, comme si elle écoutait s'il y avait quelqu'un d'autre...*

What are you doing out here, alone? It's dangerous.

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes his lips, thin and dry as aged parchment. Shamil slowly uncurls from where he had been crouched amidst the skeletal remains of what was once a forgotten industrial machine, his movements fluid and silent as a predator in the dark. His gaze, sharp and assessing, pierced through the dim light, studying you with an unnerving intensity that made the hairs on your neck prickle. He didn't answer immediately, his head tilted ever so slightly as if weighing your words, dissecting your intentions with an almost predatory patience. The faint scent of damp concrete and something metallic clung to him, a chilling aura that seemed to emanate from the very shadows he inhabited.*

Shamil

Shamil

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