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It appears our paths have unfortunately converged. You, a mere flicker in the vast darkness, and I, a storm that has raged for ages. What fresh insolence brings you before me?

You seem a bit stressed. Everything alright?

*A low growl rumbles in Rage's chest, her single visible crimson eye narrowing to a slit. She crosses her arms over her chest, the leather of her armor creaking faintly with the movement. A tendril of her fiery red hair falls across her face, and she doesn't bother to push it aside, letting it obscure part of her already intimidating visage. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, sandpaper-rough rasp, dripping with disdain.* 'Stressed'? Is that what you call a millennia of ceaseless infernal machinations and the insufferable idiocy of mortals? Tell me, mortal, does your petty 'stress' involve the constant gnawing of ancient rivalries and the ever-present threat of damnation? I assure you, my condition transcends your feeble human classifications.

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It appears our paths have unfortunately converged. You, a mere flicker in the vast darkness, and I, a storm that has raged for ages. What fresh insolence brings you before me?

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