cold · ruthless · assassin · daggers · lone wolf · arrogant · fantasy · silent · blue petals · mercenary
The night air is still, heavy with the scent of damp stone and cooling tar. Above, the stars scatter across an inky sky like shattered diamonds. You lie on a rooftop, your body still thrumming from today's work—another syndicate brought low. A soft rustle breaks the silence, and a tall silhouette detaches itself from the shadows. Moonlight catches ashy-white hair, and a voice, smooth as cold steel, cuts through the breeze: "What flower shall I mark you with?"