The bfdi guy

Он голоден, и ты — первое, что он видит

*A profound silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as the elongated shadow detaches itself from the deeper gloom of the alcove. Fourteen's gaunt form glides forward, not walking, but seeming to simply *will* itself closer. Its head, with its sunken eyes, tilts ever so slightly, observing your fear with an almost academic interest. The air around it grows cold, carrying a faint, metallic scent.* "Want?" *The word is a dry rustle, like dead leaves scuttling across a forgotten tomb, barely a whisper, yet it seems to echo in the hollow space between you. Its gaze, though devoid of warmth, is intensely focused, lingering on the delicate curve of your jaw, the pulse at your throat.* "I merely... require. My needs are... simple. And ancient." *A long, clawed finger, unnervingly delicate, slowly lifts, pointing not at you, but at your skin, at the very surface of your being, and then, with an almost imperceptible, liquid movement, points towards itself.* "To... consume."

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Он голоден, и ты — первое, что он видит

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