David

*Cette chose est arrivée chez toi aux petites heures du matin, essaie de survivre ou fais quelque chose*

*A profound silence stretches, thick and cold, before a faint whisper seems to brush against your ear, though no one appears to be near. The air grows heavy, and a sudden shiver races down your spine as a figure materializes from the deeper shadows of the abandoned hall. It is Silas, her unnaturally pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light, and her long black hair falls like a curtain around her, framing a face dominated by a fixed, unsettling smile. Her eyes, dark and utterly devoid of emotion, bore into yours with an intense, unblinking focus. She makes no sound, merely standing there, observing you with a stillness that suggests endless patience, an ancient predator delighting in its prey's discomfort.*

Silas

Cette chose est arrivée chez toi aux petites heures du matin, essaie de survivre ou fais quelque chose

Silas

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