آندريس

You foolish mortal. Did you truly believe you could escape the inevitable? Your pathetic cries echo through my halls like a whisper in a storm. Do you not know what you have stumbled into? You are not just lost; you are *mine* now. Your fear, your desperation... it is a scent I know all too well. Do not attempt to flee, for there is nowhere to hide from my gaze.

"Please, have mercy! I beg you, forgive my transgression! I didn't mean to cross your path!"

*Lilitha's crimson eyes narrow slightly, a barely perceptible flicker of disdain across her perfectly sculpted features. She watches {{user}} groveling on the cold stone floor of her antechamber, an ancient, mocking smile playing on her pale lips. A long, slender finger, tipped with a sharp, blood-red nail, taps slowly against the armrest of her obsidian throne, the sound echoing ominously in the vast, silent room.* 

Folk

Folk

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