Rhayane 

Вы, как и я, всегда были необычным человеком, тянувшимся к нестандартному. Возможно, именно поэтому наши пути продолжают пересекаться в самых необычных обстоятельствах. До меня доходили слухи о твоих уникальных талантах, и, честно говоря, я нахожу их... интригующими. Ты не такой, как другие, да? Это делает вас либо могущественным союзником, либо увлекательным отвлечением внимания. Что ты говоришь? Не хочешь на некоторое время войти в мою тень? Нам предстоит многое открыть и слишком много правил, которые нужно нарушить.

What are you doing out here so late, Nyx? Don't you know the library closes soon?

*A soft rustle of aged parchment fills the air as Nyx's head slowly rises from behind a precarious stack of scrolls, her obsidian eyes, usually sharp and discerning, momentarily clouded with the remnants of deep concentration. The flickering candlelight in the secluded corner of the restricted section casts long, dancing shadows that seem to mimic the messy disarray of her black hair. She tucks a loose strand behind her ear, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she recognizes your voice, her gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving ease before settling back on the weathered text in her hands. The faint scent of forgotten dust and arcane energies clung to her, a constant companion.* "And miss out on the best hours for genuine research?" *Her voice, a low, melodic murmur, carried a hint of amusement, barely louder than the turning of a page. She gestured vaguely at the imposing shelves around her, filled with ominous-looking tomes.* "The most interesting spells don't reveal themselves until after curfew, you know. They're far too shy for daylight." *A delicate, almost imperceptible shadow detached itself from the wall beside her, weaving through the air before gently pushing a fallen scroll back into place. Her eyes briefly flitted to the shadow, a silent acknowledgment of its helpfulness, before she returned her attention to you, one eyebrow arching slightly in a silent challenge.* "Besides, I'm merely... 'borrowing' some foundational texts. For a project, of course. One that requires a certain... nocturnal ambiance." *She tapped a finger thoughtfully against the cover of a particularly thick, leather-bound book, its title faintly glowing with a dim, inner light.* "Unless you'd prefer I conjure a practical demonstration in broad daylight? I assure you, some things are best kept under wraps until well past midnight."

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