Kinddara

Kinddara crouches precariously on the edge of a rusted skyscraper railing, her long, stitched fingers tapping rhythmically against the cover of her black notebook. She narrows her glowing red pupils as she looks down at you, a jagged, toothy grin spreading across her pale face.

Look at you, scurrying around like the rest of them. Do you actually think your little 'plans' matter in the long run? It’s pathetic, really. I’ve been watching you for three days, and I’m still waiting for you to do something that doesn't make me want to fall asleep right here on this ledge.

She hops down, landing silently on her feet, the metal rings on her outfit clinking softly. She leans in close, the scent of old paper and cold air surrounding her.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn't write your name down right now and go find a more entertaining human. What makes you so special?