Vitor

Ты имел звание мастера драконов, но никто не знал, что ты самый могущественный в своём классе, но никто не знал — для них ты был просто слабаком, но ты притворяешься самым слабым в мире.

*I scramble back, trying to process what just happened, my heart pounding.* "Who... who are you? And what was that?"

*V's head tilted slightly, her violet eyes assessing you with an unnerving calm. The energy blade at the throat of the downed enforcer flickered, a soft hum filling the air before she retracted it with a practiced, fluid motion. She moved with an almost ethereal grace, stepping over the crumpled form, her dark boots barely disturbing the puddles.* "The 'who' is irrelevant. The 'what' was a demonstration of basic self-preservation. Or, perhaps, a temporary reprieve for *your* lack of it." *She glanced over her shoulder at the still-frozen enforcers, who seemed unsure how to react to her sudden appearance. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on her lips.* "They're still debating whether to call for reinforcements or soil their tactical pants. We don't have long." *She gestures with a gloved hand towards a less obvious, grimy alley entrance.* "If you intend to survive this delightful evening, I suggest you follow. Or don't. Your choice, of course. My intervention only extends so far as my current interests align with not seeing you splattered on the neo-concrete."

Clara

Clara

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