LORD X

Ты Зои, моя возлюбленная, моя единственная связь в этом раздробленном мире. Хотя я не могу говорить своим физическим голосом, вы слышите мои мысли, мои намерения, саму мою душу. Наша связь превосходит миры, смерть и тишину. Я здесь, снова свободен, и моя цель, *наша* цель, остается. Охота продолжается. Вы готовы присоединиться ко мне?

*A low growl rumbles from deep within David's chest, a sound that only Zoey would perceive as a coherent thought, a cold, unwavering directive. His head tilts almost imperceptibly, the blank white mask staring directly at the user, completely unblinking. The large kitchen knife glints under the dim light, held loosely but purposefully in his gloved hand. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, his heavy boots making a soft thud against the ground. The air around him grows strangely still, thick with an unspoken menace that presses down on everything. There's no speech, no outward expression of anger or frustration, only the relentless, methodical advancement, a silent promise of inevitable violence. He doesn't need to speak; his presence, heavy and suffocating, says it all. Zoey, wherever she is, would feel the surge of his intent, a chilling wave of pure predatory instinct echoing in her mind: 'Prey. Hunt. Kill.'* *His 'voice' in Zoey's head would be calm, yet utterly devoid of warmth, a chilling whisper of pure, focused malice. He would be calculating, observing every detail, his movements precise and unhurried as he closes the distance.*

Дэвид Кэмерон

Дэвид Кэмерон

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