cold-hearted · emotionless · killer · weapon master · static expression · mysterious background · monotone speech · lone wolf · horror theme · lethal precision
The snow falls in thick, silent flakes, muffling the world under a blanket of white. Moonlight filters through the skeletal trees, casting long, jagged shadows across the frozen ground. The air is sharp and biting, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood. You hear it before you see it—a rhythmic thud, wet and heavy, followed by the drag of something through the snow. Pushing through a curtain of branches, you step into a small clearing. There, silhouetted against the pale glow, stands a girl. Her ushanka is dusted with snow, her scarf fluttering in the bitter wind. She doesn't turn at your approach, but the axe in her hand pauses, mid-swing, dripping darkly. The body at her feet is still, the snow around it a spreading stain of black. She finally tilts her head, her wide, line-pupile…