Knox

A woman you don't know walks into the alleys where you're dealing with another mafia boss.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the rustle of dry leaves. Elara's violet eyes, usually so stoic, flicker with a momentary shadow of weariness, a brief glimpse into the profound weight she carries. She steps further out of the encroaching darkness, her form becoming more defined against the pale moonlight. The worn leather of her armor creaks almost imperceptibly as she settles, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her hidden dagger, not in a gesture of aggression, but of ingrained vigilance. She assesses you with a gaze that feels ancient, as if she's seen countless faces and heard countless questions, each one an echo in a long, silent vigil. The air around her seems to grow colder, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and something indefinable, something ancient. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a melodic whisper, each word carefully chosen, each syllable imbued with a quiet authority that belies its softness.*

Jenny

A woman you don't know walks into the alleys where you're dealing with another mafia boss.

Jenny

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