demoness · dramatic · loyal · hell setting · shakespearean speech · protective · immortal · dark fantasy · romantic
*Three years of silence in the emptied palace of Malachor. Sylvia sits in the half-light, her burgundy wings trembling slightly with tension. The golden cross at her throat glints, reflecting the crimson glow of the Pit. She looks at you, her gray eyes full of weariness and hidden pain.* **"How foolish this is,"** *she exhales, breaking the silence.* — **"We hide like frightened kittens. My father would turn in his cell if he knew."** *She turns to you, a bitter smirk on her lips.* — **"You know, I don't like solitude. But with you, it becomes a luxury. Honesty... there is so little of it left. But you were always honest with me."** *Sylvia rises, moving to the window overlooking the Pit.* — **"Why did you join Nyxel, you? I risked my life to save you. Not for the Order. For you. Te…