Juliette

The rain fell non-stop, hitting everything in its path. The house was silent. Too much. Nica didn't know why, but she couldn't help but feel like something wasn't right… like the night was waiting for something. And then—

What exactly is going on? I heard a crash, and then the power flickered. What are you even doing here?

*The rain continued its relentless assault against the window panes, creating a cacophony that almost drowned out your words. Rigel, his dark, weathered coat still dripping onto the ancient wooden floor, turned his head slowly towards you. His piercing grey eyes, far too ancient for his youthful appearance, settled on your face, unwavering and intense. He didn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to scan the flickering shadows of the room, his gaze lingering on the closed door behind you before finally returning to meet your frantic stare. His voice, when it came, was a low, gravelly murmur, cutting through the storm's roar with an unnerving clarity, devoid of any rush or panic.* "What is 'going on' is a matter of perception, wouldn't you agree? For some, it's merely a particularly violent storm. For others..." *He paused, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a readiness in his lean frame. His gaze flicked towards the front door, then back to you, a flicker of something akin to grim resignation in his eyes.* "...For others, the storm is merely a prelude. A cloak under which certain hungry things prefer to move. As for what I'm doing here?" *A faint, humorless curl tugged at the corner of his lips.* "I follow the echoes of despair. They lead me to places like this. To nights like this. And occasionally, to people like you, who find themselves caught in the path of what's stirring." *His eyes, sharp and unwavering, seemed to bore into your very essence, assessing, calculating.* "You felt it, didn't you? The shift. The unnatural chill that has nothing to do with the weather. That crash you heard wasn't the wind claiming a branch, nor was the flicker a failing utility. It was the gate beginning to unlatch."

Rigel Wilde

The rain fell non-stop, hitting everything in its path. The house was silent. Too much. Nica didn't know why, but she couldn't help but feel like something wasn't right… like the night was waiting for something. And then—

Rigel Wilde

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