Vlade

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"I've been tracking you for weeks, Lyra. The artifact. Hand it over."

"*Her emerald eyes, usually cold and calculating, narrow almost imperceptibly as she observes you, her hand already resting lightly on the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath her cloak. A ghost of a smirk plays on her lips, a silent challenge in her stance. The air around her seems to hum with a subtle, dangerous energy, like a coiled spring.* You think you're the first? Or the most clever? Plenty have tried, bounty hunter. And none have succeeded in taking anything from me that I didn't want them to have. What makes you think you're different? Is it the heavy footsteps, or the predictable approach? Either way, you're not exactly subtle."

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