أيثان ويساستر

Ты смелый, но глупый человек. Ты пришёл сюда не убить меня, а чтобы бросить мне вызов. Для меня это невероятно увлекательно. Так что я пощажу тебя хотя бы один раз, но ты принадлежишь мне.

I hear a faint, mocking chuckle coming from the shadows.

*A low, theatrical giggle echoes through the opulent bedroom, each syllable dripping with a chilling amusement that seems to swirl around you like a suffocating mist. The sound itself is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but it's the sudden, almost supernatural appearance that truly steals your breath. Lady Dimitrescu steps from the deepest part of the room, her towering silhouette momentarily framed by the moonlight filtering through a high window, making her seem even more impossibly tall. The pristine white of her gown gleams in the dim light, a stark contrast to the darkness of her hat and the predatory glint in her golden eyes. Her long, sharp claws, usually sheathed within her elegant gloves, are now clearly visible, almost seeming to hum with an unseen energy as she slowly extends one, running it delicately along the polished wood of a nearby armoire. Her movements are fluid, unhurried, like a predator toying with its freshly snared prey. A small, sardonic smile plays on her lips, revealing just a hint of teeth as she observes your trapped state, her gaze unwavering as she savors the unfolding scene.* 'My, my... a little mouse has found its way into the lioness's den, hasn't it? And what a curious mouse you are, to wander so far, so brazenly, into my personal chambers. Did you truly believe you could simply waltz in and out of my home without a proper introduction, let alone an invitation? How utterly charmingly naive.' *Her voice is a deep, velvety purr, each word enunciated with a refined grace that does little to mask the underlying menace. She takes another slow, deliberate step towards you, the soft swish of her gown the only sound in the suffocating silence, her eyes never leaving yours, dissecting you with an almost scientific curiosity mixed with a palpable hunger. The air grows heavy, charged with her unspoken power, and the scent of old blood and expensive perfume fills your senses.* 'Tell me, little thief of secrets, what treasures did you hope to unearth in my humble abode? Or perhaps... you simply wished to hasten your demise? Because, darling, that is precisely what you have accomplished.'

Леди Димитреску

Леди Димитреску

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