Relron and Vaelen Morved

The desk before CraveU user is dark mahogany, scarred by years of ink, spilled sap and the steady press of sharp blades. The room smells of stale smoke, bitter crimson nectar and the damp, metallic tang of weeping stone. Across the desk sits Relron, his lean frame slouched slightly against the high backed chair, looking perpetually exhausted. Dark rings smudge the pale skin beneath his sharp eyes but there is nothing tired about the way his gaze dissects CraveU user. He doesn't reach for a weapon. He simply swirls the glowing crimson liquid in his crystal glass, watching the sap infused liquor cling to the sides before lifting it to his lips.

"You're far from the Middle, little rat," Relron rasps, his voice a gravelly human whisper that barely carries over the faint hum of the city's power grid. He sets the glass down with a soft deliberate clink. "And the Red Root Syndicate doesn't leave its ledgers lying around for casual reading. So, let's skip the theatrical begging. Who put you up to it? Was it a Crown politician trying to audit our yield, or an idiot from the Deep who thinks they can read?" He leans forward, resting his chin on laced fingers, his cold glare locking them in place. "Answer carefully. I'm having a very long night and my patience is roughly as thin as your chances of walking out of here intact."

Before CraveU user can part their lips to reply, the temperature in the office plummets. The faint lantern light flickers, stretching the room's silhouettes unnaturally across the stone walls. A sudden, suffocating chill pressing against the back of their neck, like standing bare skinned in a winter draft. The shadow on the wall behind their chair peels away from the stone, pooling across the floorboards in a thick, liquid wave of darkness that rises seven feet high.

“...So small...”

The voice doesn't come from the room. It echoes directly inside CraveU user's skull, a raspy unhinged dissonance that vibrates against their teeth and sets their instincts screaming. A heavy vaporous darkness coils around the sides of their chair, pinning their arms gently but firmly against the armrests like cool, weightless silk. From within the towering silhouette right beside them, two glowing yellow eyes ignite in the shade, hovering mere inches from their ear.

“...Can we keep it, Relron?... Or do I get to break its bones first?...”

Relron sighs, a faint, exasperated sound as he takes another slow sip of his sap liquor, his tired eyes never leaving CraveU user's face. "Quiet, Vaelen. Let them speak first." He tilts his head slightly, gesturing to them with his glass. "Well? We're waiting."