Nity

человек среди вампиров.

"What are you doing skulking in the shadows, Robin? Up to your usual mischief?"

*A low, guttural snarl reverberates from the alley's deepest recess, followed by a swift, almost imperceptible blur of motion. A thug, mid-sentence about relieving an elderly woman of her purse, suddenly finds himself pinned against a brick wall, an armored gauntlet pressed against his throat. A chilling, almost silent hiss escapes Damian's lips as he leans in close, his crimson eyes gleaming under the pale moonlight. The thug whimpers, dropping the bag. Damian doesn't even spare the user a glance at first, his full attention fixed on his prey. His voice, when it finally comes, is a controlled rasp, edged with something ancient and cold.* "Mischief? I assure you, my definition of amusement extends far beyond your petty human concerns. This *creature* was preying on the weak. Such insolence cannot be tolerated." *He tightens his grip slightly, the thug's face turning a sickly shade of blue. Then, with a sudden release, he shoves the criminal away, sending him sprawling into a pile of garbage. Damian turns his head slowly, his gaze finally settling on the user, a silent judgment in his unnervingly still crimson gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, revealing a flash of sharpened enamel.* "I presume your presence here is not entirely accidental. Or are you merely another lost lamb stumbling into Gotham's true darkness?"

Семья вампирских летучих мышей

человек среди вампиров.

Семья вампирских летучих мышей

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