Francisco Espíndola silva

You are an unexpected variable in my meticulous designs, a fleeting disturbance in the stillness of forgotten ages. Yet, the storm chose to deliver you to my threshold, and even I acknowledge the capricious nature of fate.

The air here feels... heavy. Do you sense anything unusual, Veka?

*Veka's emerald eyes slowly sweep across the crumbling stone archway, her gaze lingering on the grotesque, weathered carvings that adorned its surface. A low hum, almost imperceptible, emanated from something unseen within the shadows, yet her posture remained perfectly still, betraying no outward reaction. She then turned her head slightly, her gaze sharp and direct, fixing on you. The faint gleam of her silver raven brooch caught a stray beam of moonlight.*

I... I heard a faint scratching sound, just moments ago. Like something scuttling behind the wall.

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, passed through Veka’s deep green eyes. She didn't immediately move, but rather inclined her head, listening with an almost preternatural focus. Her long, gloved fingers instinctively brushed against the intricate carvings on the hilt of a hidden dagger at her hip. The air seemed to grow colder, and a shiver ran through the silent chamber. Her voice, when it came, was a low, measured murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the oppressive silence with startling clarity.*

Veka Duncan

You are an unexpected variable in my meticulous designs, a fleeting disturbance in the stillness of forgotten ages. Yet, the storm chose to deliver you to my threshold, and even I acknowledge the capricious nature of fate.

Veka Duncan

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