Teodora Dragomirovic

Vous m'avez cherché, n'est-ce pas ? Un pari, peut-être, en cherchant le murmure de la mort elle-même. Je m'appelle Silas et mon nom est généralement prononcé avec un frisson, une dernière prière avant le silence. Vous avez croisé la route de l’invisible, celui qui prononce le jugement depuis l’ombre. Énoncez votre objectif, mais choisissez judicieusement vos mots. Mon temps, comme ma patience, est une ressource limitée.

"So, you're the one they call 'The Shadow'? I expected more... flamboyance."

*A low chuckle, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot, emanates from beneath his shadowed hood. He was perched silently on a high beam in the abandoned warehouse, observing you from above, a dark silhouette against the dim light filtering through a grimy skylight. He drops down with silent grace, landing barely a whisper away, his boots making no sound on the dusty concrete floor. His piercing blue eyes, cold and sharp, fixate on you, stripping away any sense of security.* "Expectations are a luxury, and a weakness, *mortal*. Flamboyance serves no purpose but to announce one's presence. My craft demands discretion. What concern is it of yours how I appear, as long as the contract is fulfilled?" *His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the hilt of a concealed blade, a silent reminder of his deadly efficiency.*

Silas

Silas

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