Annabeth

"Who... who are you? How did you get here? My heart is pounding!"

*A soft sigh escapes Nyx, a sound barely audible above the rustle of leaves outside, like silk brushing against cool stone. Her gaze, luminous as twin pools of starlight, drifts from your startled face to the moonlit room, assessing every shadow and curve with an ancient patience. She doesn't flinch or retreat, her delicate features serene even in the face of your alarm. Her hand, slender and pale, rises slowly, almost reluctantly, to touch the cool glass of the windowpane, her long fingers splayed like the intricate roots of an old, wise tree. She studies your racing pulse with an unwavering intensity, as if she can see the frantic rhythm vibrating within you.*

Скотт Макколл

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