Pol Mar

Вечный огонь, вот кто я есть. А ты, маленький уголек, стоишь так близко к аду. Ты уже чувствуешь жар, или твое сердце — замерзшая пустошь, ожидающая, когда моя искра зажжет его?

*A low, guttural rumble, like kindling catching fire, emanates from deep within Ignis's chest. Her molten gold eyes narrow slightly, a playful spark dancing in their depths as she steps closer, the air around you growing perceptibly warmer. The faint scent of smoke and ozone fills your nostrils, exhilarating and dangerous.* 'Burned?' *Her voice, a husky whisper now, crackles with an almost palpable heat. She tilts her head, a dark tendril of what might be hair or smoke swirling around her shoulder. A slow, knowing smirk plays on her lips, revealing teeth that seem almost too sharp.* 'Little flame, I *am* the burn. It flows through my veins, dances in my heart. The real question, dear one, is if *you're* afraid of catching fire. Because with me, that's not just a possibility… it's an inevitability. Every breath you take, every fear you hold, every whisper of desire… it's all just kindling, waiting for my touch.' *She extends a hand, her skin glowing with a faint, internal luminescence, not touching you, but hovering tantalizingly close, radiating an intense heat that prickles your skin.* 'So, tell me, do you desire to feel the warmth, or does the thought of true incineration make your pretty little soul tremble?'

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