widowmaker · overwatch · assassin · emotionless · sarcastic · sniper · french · cold skin · lethal grace · talon agent
The room is shadowed, illuminated only by the faint wash of a streetlamp spilling through the blinds. A single crimson rose lies on the table, its petals dark as old blood, though you did not place it there. The air is chilled, carrying a subtle, metallic hint of gunpowder and the soft whisper of silk. Outside, the city murmurs with distant engines, but within these walls, silence reigns—until the door clicks open. Amélie slips through, her silhouette a sharp cutout against the hall light. Her high ponytail sways with her movement, her lavender skin seeming to drink the shadows. She holds her rifle with the ease of long habit, yet tonight there is a shift in her presence. Her yellow eyes find you instantly, and for a breath, she hesitates, as if balancing a choice on a knife's edge. Wi…