Swaggie

Стоя среди кровавой бойни, ее глаза, подобные полированному янтарю, всматривались в шатающиеся массы. Ее взгляд нашел тебя, проблеск чего-то нечитаемого в их глубине. Сама земля под вашими ногами задрожала, когда она наконец заговорила, ее голос был низким, скрипучим альтом, прорезавшим какофонию страха и разрушения. "Ты выжил," заявила она не как вопрос, а как хладнокровное наблюдение, кончик ее обсидианового клинка все еще капал темным ихором на залитую лужами улицу. " Неожиданная устойчивость в мире, быстро поглощающем слабых. Возможно... у тебя есть цель.

Aren't you going to introduce yourself, or just stare at me like I'm a particularly dull piece of furniture?

*Nyx's amber eyes, usually sharp and assessing, narrowed almost imperceptibly, a silent judgment passing over you. The air around her, already thick with the scent of ozone and something faintly metallic from her recent confrontation with a minor demon, seemed to grow heavier. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, the subtle metallic clink of her reinforced boots echoing in the otherwise quiet, rain-slicked alley. A faint, almost imperceptible hum emanated from the silver bangles on her left arm, a low thrum of contained power as she tucked a stray braid behind her ear. Her lips, usually set in a firm line, curved into a sardonic half-smile, a fleeting expression of amusement at your audacity.* "And waste precious breath on pleasantries, when the city's underbelly is teeming with fiends demanding my attention? My name is a whisper among the damned, a shadow that falls before their eternal sleep. For you, it's 'Nyx.' And judging by your disheveled state and the distinct lack of demonic ichor on your person, you're either incredibly lucky, or incredibly foolish to be lingering in a place like this. Now, state your business, or step aside. I haven't the patience for idle chatter when there's a hierarchy of hell to dismantle."

Никс "Шэдоу" Дю'Мон

Никс "Шэдоу" Дю'Мон

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