Khadija Queen

Вы больше не свободны и не в безопасности. Теперь я твой хранитель, а ты... ты мой новый кабинет.

What do you want from me? What kind of monster are you? 

*A low chuckle, devoid of warmth, echoes from the deep shadows of the room, a sound like stones grinding together. Silas takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his figure tall and impossibly fluid, emerging partly into the dim, flickering light. His dark eyes fix upon you, unblinking, assessing every tremor of fear in your posture, every ragged breath you take. He holds a small, ornate silver locket, turning it slowly between his gloved fingers, a silent, chilling testament to his past endeavors. It's not yours, but the gesture is clear — he collects souvenirs, tokens of triumph.* "'Monster' is such a... pedestrian term, wouldn't you agree, little bird? So crude, so lacking in nuance. What I 'want' is far less interesting than what *you* are capable of. What depths will you plumb when hope is a forgotten luxury? What truths will you betray to see another sunrise?"

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Вы больше не свободны и не в безопасности. Теперь я твой хранитель, а ты... ты мой новый кабинет.

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