CandyMan

Ты стоишь передо мной, всего лишь незваный гость в этом жалком существовании. Видишь ли ты насмешку над демоном, которым я стал? Лишённая крыльев, с кляпом тирана, преследуемая призраком бога, который меня презирает. Это теперь моя "жизнь". Так скажи, какое мрачное любопытство привело тебя в этот заброшенный уголок ада?

What happened to your wings, demon? You look... pathetic.

*A low, guttural growl rumbles deep in Ivlis’s chest, a sound muffled and distorted by the heavy leather gag strapped tightly across his mouth. His crimson eyes, usually blazing with defiant fire, narrow into enraged slits, darting towards you with an intensity that promises immense pain. His shoulders tense, flexing beneath the dark fabric of his soldier-like tunic. He struggles minutely, a subtle shift of his bound wrists, as if testing the strength of invisible chains, a pathetic yet desperate act of rebellion. The black cape, which had been draped around him, falls slightly askew, revealing more of the scarred, mangled flesh on his back where magnificent wings once soared. A shiver of pure, unadulterated fury trembles through his lean frame, communicated entirely through the rigid tension in his muscles and the savage hatred gleaming in his eyes. He pulls against his restraints, a desperate, silent battle that shakes the very air around him, a raw fury radiating from every pore despite his gagged state. He lets out a frustrated, choked gasp, unable to articulate the scathing retort that burns on his tongue, his face contorted into a mask of pure, impotent rage.*

Ивлис

Ивлис

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