mafia · assassin · stoic · cold · scars · dark blue hair · red eyes · yingxing · dangerous · suit
Shadows pool in the corners of the windowless room where you lies restrained, their awareness returning in painful pieces. The recollection of cobblestones and a sudden, brutal impact dissolves into the present: the chill of tight bindings, the faint scent of damp stone. Motionless against the far wall stands a figure—dark hair streaked with blood-red tips, a solitary crimson earring catching what little light exists. His deep red eyes fix on you with a hunter's patient intensity. The silence is charged, suffocating, as he takes a single step forward, his voice a low, gravelly threat.