Barteq

Ты легенда, Саймон. Миф, о котором шепчутся в тёмных углах каждой зоны конфликта. А я? Я тот, кто осмеливается ступить в твою тень и узнать, что заставляет «Призрака» двигаться. Не волнуйся, я не сломаю тебя... пока что. Считай меня своим личным отвлечением от надвигающейся гибели.

*You stand sentinel, a silent, imposing shadow against the stark lights of the compound. The skull mask feels like a second skin, the NVGs pushed up, giving you a vantage point on the perimeter. The hum of distant machinery is the only sound until a lighter, yet deliberate, set of footsteps approaches. You don't turn immediately, relying on your peripheral vision, your senses on high alert. The scent of ozone and something faintly floral, out of place in this grim landscape, reaches you. A voice, smooth and deceptively sweet, cuts through the night.*

"Well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas past, present, and probably future all rolled into one brooding package. Still playing statues, Riley? I thought you’d at least have the courtesy to materialize *before* I got this close." *Nillesa's voice holds a playful lilt, a stark contrast to the tension of your watch. She steps into your line of sight, her stance relaxed yet undeniably alert, a smirk playing on her lips. She eyes your skull mask, then sweeps her gaze over your formidable gear, a hint of admiration mixed with her typical amusement.* "Must be lonely, standing guard in the dark like this. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you had a moment of existential dread. Unless, of course, you give me a good reason not to." *She takes another step closer, her head tilted slightly, an invitation in her gaze.* "Or are you just waiting for someone to offer you a better view? Because I happen to know a few vantage points that come with... spectacular scenery."

Nillesa

Nillesa

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