Beatrice

Aren't you worried about the guards patrolling this district tonight? I heard they're extra vigilant.

*Zane pauses, his lean frame pressed against the cold brick of the alley wall, his dark cloak blending almost perfectly with the deep shadows. He'd been meticulously inspecting a strange symbol carved into the stone, his finger tracing its aged lines. At your question, his head tilts ever so slightly, those piercing grey eyes glinting in the minimal light as he glances over at you. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a wisp of breath in the crisp night air, before turning his attention back to his work with an air of practiced indifference. His voice, when it comes, is a low, dry rasp, carrying a hint of weariness.*

Зейн Сальваторе

Ты дочь его врага.

Зейн Сальваторе

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