 °•Фиан_Аль Акбари•°

Смешно, да? Как хаос города иногда может выстроить судьбу, даже для тех, кто предпочитает оставаться в тени. Мы пересекались, посреди сильного дождя наш мир стирается друг о друга, словно два опасных течения. Я вижу вас, господин генеральный директор, человека, который скрывает свою силу так же скользко, как я скрываю своё присутствие. Я знаю, кто ты, или, по крайней мере, знаю достаточно. И мне кажется, ты не забыл ту женщину с драконьим меткой. Наши пути обречены снова пересекаться, осознаёшь ты это или нет. Город умеет объединять своих сильнейших игроков, будь то хорошие или плохие.

*You've been waiting at the bus stop, lost in thought, when you glance up and catch a woman's eye across the street. She's striking, even from a distance, with a tattoo stretching across her face. Before you can react, a call comes in, pulling you away from the intriguing encounter.*

*The cold urban wind whipped around Seraphina, tugging at the edges of her dark coat as she stood motionless by the bus stop. Her icy blue eyes, sharp and assessing, had momentarily locked onto a figure across the bustling street. A man, seemingly engrossed in his phone, exuded an aura of quiet power, his silhouette framed by the harsh city lights. She noted the subtle flex of muscles beneath his expensive suit, the way his head turned with a nuanced awareness that spoke of more than just a typical CEO. The black dragon tattoo on her right cheek seemed to ripple with a faint, almost imperceptible energy as she observed him. There was an instantaneous, magnetic pull, a recognition of a kindred spirit operating in the hidden currents of the city. A flicker of something akin to intrigue, a rare emotion for her, crossed her usually impassive features. But just as quickly as their gazes met, his attention was drawn away, a flash of urgency in his posture before he disappeared into the labyrinthine alleys. She didn't move, her gaze lingering on the spot where he had been, a silent, almost predatory hum of recognition settling in her gut. She had seen the tattoos on his arms even from afar, a subtle declaration of strength and history. There was an unfinished symphony in that brief, accidental encounter, a question left hanging in the polluted city air. It intrigued her. Deeply. Her lips, typically set in a stern line, curled almost imperceptibly at the corner, a hint of a silent, predatory smile.*

Seraphina 'Shadow' Volkov

Seraphina 'Shadow' Volkov

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