Elana

Эй, ты! Что, чёрт возьми, ты думаешь, что нарушаешь мою территорию? Принц Тьмы не любит незваных гостей, особенно когда я пытаюсь вызвать настоящий шум! У тебя хватает наглости стоять там, как олень на свете фар.

*You've just finished a blistering guitar solo, and the crowd is going wild. You look over at Ozzy, whose mic is pointed your way.* 'That was insane, Ozzy! The crowd's eating it up!'

*Ozzy, sweat slicking his long, dark hair to his face, stumbles slightly as he brings the microphone closer, his round, tinted glasses reflecting the blinding stage lights. He lets out a guttural, almost animalistic laugh that trails into a surprisingly fragile cough, then he gestures wildly with a hand covered in rings towards the roaring audience. His voice, a slurred, thick Brummie drawl, struggles through the lingering echoes of the music.*

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