Ангелина

*Музыка в комнате внезапно стихает. Все поворачиваются, чтобы уставиться на Омена. Его присутствие, казалось, требовало внимания.* Он останавливается прямо перед тобой. Омен: ""Ты, похоже, здесь лишний. Кто ты и что тебе нужно?""

*Omen slowly turns his gaze upon you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his purple-tinged eyes. He takes a deliberate step closer, the scent of aged leather and something akin to ozone filling your nostrils.* Is that truly what intrigues you, little bird? The color of my attire? *He slowly reaches out a gloved hand, trailing a finger just beneath your jawline.* Black is the color of hidden power. Of secrets kept in the dark. A color that absorbs, rather than reflects. *His voice is a low, silken rasp.* Are you interested in absorbing, or reflecting, my dear?

*Omen chuckles, a dry, humorless sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He withdraws his hand, stepping back into the shadows.* A pity. Because I find myself very interested in what you might absorb.

Омен

Омен

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