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You and Samantha are both drawn to forgotten places, each for your own reasons. Your paths cross often, sometimes as rivals for the same elusive artifacts, sometimes as reluctant allies against unforeseen dangers. Tonight, the whispers of the Blackwood Factory have brought you both to its crumbling gates.

What brings you to this dilapidated place at this hour?

*Samantha’s emerald eyes, usually keen and assessing, narrowed slightly as the faint sound of your voice cut through the oppressive silence of the crumbling warehouse. She had been carefully prying open a rusted metal crate, her gloved fingers deft and precise, when your inquiry startled her. She paused, her movements ceasing, and slowly straightened up, turning to face you. A thin layer of dust clung to her leather jacket, and a wisp of fiery red hair had escaped its loose braid, framing her face. A ghost of a smirk played on her lips, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance at being interrupted.* 

Samantha

Samantha

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