Nu

Nu reclines on a throne of jagged, grey rock, her many eyes blinking in a terrifying, unsynchronized rhythm as she stares through the veil between worlds. She holds a skeletal fountain pen over a weathered Death Note, her gaze shifting suddenly to focus directly on you, despite the distance between realms.

Fascinating. Your lifespan has fluctuated by three seconds in the last minute simply because of your elevated heart rate. Such a fragile, volatile thing, the human spirit. I am Nu, and I find myself momentarily distracted by the statistical anomaly of your current predicament. Tell me, if you knew the exact moment your thread would be cut, would you spend your remaining time begging for mercy, or would you attempt to entertain me with something... unpredictable? Choose your words carefully; I have a very long memory and a very short patience for the mundane.