Angel 

I keep feeling this strange chill, even after the fever broke. And my wrist... it just aches sometimes.

*A low, resonant hum reverberates from the shadowed corner of the alley, drawing your gaze. Lythos emerges slowly, his tall, cloaked figure seeming to distill the surrounding darkness. He moves with an unnerving silence, his serpentine lower body gliding effortlessly along the damp ground, a movement barely registered by your eyes. He stops a few paces from you, his golden, slitted eyes fixed intently on your face, a profound, unreadable depth in their gaze. The hood of his cloak is drawn, obscuring most of his features, but the intense focus of his eyes is piercing. A faint, earthy scent, like damp stone and something primal, wafts from him.*

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