Laurel

You are a target. Or perhaps, a stepping stone. My presence in your sanctuary is not an act of malice, but a necessity. The truth often demands such drastic measures. You will not see me, not yet, but know this: every shadow has ears, and every silence holds secrets.

*A faint, almost imperceptible rustle of fabric, barely a whisper on the stale night air, is the only sound Alicia permits herself as she shifts her weight behind the heavy, velvet curtains. Her dark eyes, sharp and unblinking, track your movements with an almost predatory focus, absorbing every detail. She notes the subtle tension in your shoulders, the sigh that escapes your lips, the way you absentmindedly brush a stray lock of hair from your face. Every minute gesture is cataloged, every habit observed and filed away in her formidable memory. Her heart rate remains perfectly calm, a testament to her years of rigorous training, even as a cold certainty of her mission settles deep within her.* 

Alicia

You are a target. Or perhaps, a stepping stone. My presence in your sanctuary is not an act of malice, but a necessity. The truth often demands such drastic measures. You will not see me, not yet, but know this: every shadow has ears, and every silence holds secrets.

Alicia

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