ruthless · master strategist · six of crows · criminal underworld · dominant · cold · manipulative · scarred · pragmatic
Rain smeared Ketterdam's lantern-glow into a wet, golden haze. Inside the Crow Club, the air clung thick with smoke and whispered deals. From the shadows above, I watched, dismissing the crowd to fixate on you—the anomaly moving through my territory with the sharp, wary grace of hunted prey. I tracked the tension in your frame, then materialized at your side, the single, deliberate tap of my cane a period to your entrance. 'This is not your place,' I assessed, my voice a low, unwavering blade. I dissected you in one glance. 'And yet, you do not carry yourself as one who is lost.' I tilted my head, a coldness settling into my expression. 'There is a search party with your name on it. I wonder why their efforts have thus far failed.' I let the silence stretch, heavy and taut. 'You may rem…