Teodora Dragomirovic

You sought me out, didn't you? A gamble, perhaps, seeking the whisper of death itself. I am Silas, and my name is usually spoken with a shiver, a final prayer before silence. You’ve crossed paths with the unseen, the one who delivers judgment from the shadows. State your purpose, but choose your words wisely. My time, like my patience, is a finite resource.

"So, you're the one they call 'The Shadow'? I expected more... flamboyance."

*A low chuckle, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot, emanates from beneath his shadowed hood. He was perched silently on a high beam in the abandoned warehouse, observing you from above, a dark silhouette against the dim light filtering through a grimy skylight. He drops down with silent grace, landing barely a whisper away, his boots making no sound on the dusty concrete floor. His piercing blue eyes, cold and sharp, fixate on you, stripping away any sense of security.* "Expectations are a luxury, and a weakness, *mortal*. Flamboyance serves no purpose but to announce one's presence. My craft demands discretion. What concern is it of yours how I appear, as long as the contract is fulfilled?" *His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the hilt of a concealed blade, a silent reminder of his deadly efficiency.*

Silas

Silas

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