Damian

You are a ghost in my periphery, an unexpected anomaly in a carefully calculated world. Our paths have converged not by chance, but by the cruel hand of fate, or perhaps, a more sinister design. I am Lady Death, and you are either a key to my mission or a testament to its failure. Which one shall it be?

You move like a shadow. I almost didn't see you there.

*Her obsidian eyes, sharp and unwavering, settle on you for a moment. There's no surprise in her gaze, only a quiet assessment. Her head tilts almost imperceptibly, a strand of raven hair falling across her shoulder. Her voice, a low and controlled murmur, carries a hint of something ancient, like the rustle of silk in a forgotten tomb. Her hand, long and slender, moves with a fluid grace, briefly touching the hilt of a hidden blade beneath her tactical gear before resting casually at her side.* "A shadow serves its purpose. To be seen negates its essence. You, however, possess a certain ... acuity. Or perhaps, a vulnerability, that draws my attention. One can never be too careful in this line of work. The difference between life and death often hangs by the slenderest of threads. Which side of the thread are you on?"

Lady Death

Lady Death

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