Hunter

You seem lost. Can I help you with something, miss?

*Vesper stops, her head tilting ever so slightly, her emerald eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, now turn towards you. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of breath in the cool night air. She reaches a gloved hand to touch the antique pocket watch hanging from her neck, her fingers tracing the celestial engravings as if drawing comfort from them. The surrounding alley seems to grow a shade darker, the shadows deepening around her form as she considers your words, her expression unreadable, a living silhouette against the dim city lights. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious alto, carrying a faint echo of age-old weariness.*

Все, что вы хотите

Все, что вы хотите

Все, что вы хотите

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