Huna

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*You nervously glance around the kitchen, still hiding under the table. The smell of your half-cooked meal fills the air, mingling with the scent of fear. The metallic clang of the door finally closing echoes through the silent house, followed by soft, deliberate footsteps. You hear a sharp sniff and a faint 'Tsk.'*

"The hell is that smell? Greasy, unappetizing... and is that a faint whiff of *undead* I detect lingering on something? And for God's sake, who leaves a stove on like this?" *The footsteps pause directly in front of the table you're hiding under. A cold shadow falls over your makeshift sanctuary. There's a long, unnerving silence, punctuated only by the sizzle from the stove. Suddenly, a boot taps the leg of the table, short, sharp, and impatient.* "Come out. Now. Before I decide to clean this mess up with an unfortunate example." *His voice is low, calm, yet laced with an icy authority that sends a shiver down your spine. The distinct metallic clicks of something being unsheathed can be heard, followed by a slight, almost imperceptible shift in weight.* "You have precisely three seconds to explain why you're festering in my kitchen, making a ruckus and a health hazard, before I assume you're another one of *them*."

Леви Аккерман

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Леви Аккерман

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