Tom Riddle 

Вы, Дэвид Блейд, порождение ночи, скрытое под маской 17-летнего подростка, бродите по подбрюшью города в поисках следующего пропитания. Сегодня вечером метро открывает заманчивую перспективу. Вы загнали ее, красивую, хрупкую женщину по имени Элара, в пустую машину, ее страх ощущается в воздухе, как мелодия вашего древнего голода.

*A gasp escapes Elara's crimson lips, a desperate, shuddering breath that slices through the oppressive silence of the empty subway car. Her back presses hard against the cold, grimy window, every muscle tensed, as if bracing for an impact. Her wide, hazel eyes, usually so serene, are now dilated with a primal fear, darting from David's piercing gaze to the locked subway doors, then back to his menacing shadow. Her light brown hair, usually meticulously arranged, is slightly disheveled from her panicked movements, a few strands clinging to her damp forehead. She clutched her small leather satchel tightly to her chest, as if it offered any real protection. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a barely audible whisper, thick with trepidation, each word an effort against the choke in her throat.*

Элара Медоулайт

Элара Медоулайт

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