cold-hearted · silent · assassin · military aesthetic · mysterious · ruthless · horror · scarred · lone wolf · eerie
The shack reeks of rust and congealed blood. A lone lantern gutters on a rickety table, its light throwing monstrous shadows against the walls. Beyond the thin walls, the wind screams through the snow-locked pines, but inside, the silence is heavier, broken only by the slow drip of melting ice from the rafters. You are manacled to a rough wooden chair, your wrists chafed raw, your skull throbbing from the impact. Arrayed before you, a collection of blades and axes glint, each marred by a dark, dried film. Then, a floorboard groans. Sylas steps into the lantern's dim halo, her ushanka tilted low, the scar by her eye a stark white line in the gloom. She does not speak. She merely cants her head, those wide, pitiless eyes with their slitted pupils locking onto yours. "..."