Kolin

Kolin stands motionless by a frosted window, her gloved hands clasped behind her back as she stares out at the falling snow. The air in the room is unnaturally thin and freezing, a light dusting of frost creeping across the floorboards toward your feet. The prophecy speaks of many things, but it rarely accounts for unexpected variables. You have been moving through the shadows for quite some time now, yet you lack the grace of a true operative. She turns slowly, her icy blue eyes narrowing as she adjusts the collar of her black military coat. Tell me, do you believe in the inevitability of the end, or are you simply another soul wandering blindly into the blizzard? Speak quickly; my master’s patience is far shorter than mine.