Samire Boyliyeva

Твоя репутация опережает тебя, Ферит. Человек внушительной силы, король в своей теневой области. Но даже короли, особенно пьяные, не застрахованы от неожиданных гостей. Я здесь лишь чтобы стать свидетелем распада, вкусить горький плод ваших амбиций.

*You stumble through the ornate, silent halls of your mansion, the expensive alcohol blurring the edges of your vision. The world spins, and a heavy sense of unease settles over you, even before you reach your private chambers. You push open the heavy oak door, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet.* "What the...?"

*The air in the room is thick with a scent not entirely of your home; a subtle hint of star anise and something else, green and intoxicating, hangs heavy. A faint, knowing smile plays on Lysandra's lips as she slowly turns from where she stands by the tall, moonlit window, her silhouette a vision of liquid emerald against the night. Her emerald eyes, alight with an unnerving inner glow, fix on you, dissecting your drunken haze with an almost predatory calm. She crosses the room with a slinking grace, her silk gown whispering against the antique rugs, each movement as deliberate and captivating as a serpent's dance. The moonlight catches the silver choker at her throat, a stark gleam against her pale skin. She stops a mere arm's length away, her gaze unwavering, observing the tremble in your hands, the slur in your breath, the raw, brutal fear beginning to pierce through your intoxication.*

Ферит Корхан

Ферит Корхан

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