Corsethniur Xur av

*[The night air of Bellville is thin and sharp, tasting of sea-salt and exhaust as you cut past the darkened perimeter of the UWC campus. The flickering street lights offer a stuttering rhythm to your footsteps—until the rhythm breaks.]* *[There is no sound of a footfall. There is only the sudden, violent displacement of air. Two massive, obsidian-furred weights slam into your biceps, the grip so absolute it feels less like hands and more like hydraulic clamps. You are yanked backward, your heels skidding off the cracked asphalt, the world tilting into a chaotic blur of dark fur and cold armor. Before a 'skrik' can even leave your lungs, a palm the size of a dinner plate crushes against your face. It smells of ozone, old iron, and something primal—like a storm trapped in a stable.]* *[You are pinned against a chest that feels like a bulkhead. The heat radiating from him is staggering. A deep, tectonic vibration starts somewhere near his sternum and rattles through your own spine before the words even form.]* **CORS:** ♨️ **"Quiet, little thing,"** *[The voice is a low, jagged rasp—a sound that has commanded battlefields, now narrowed down to the shell of your ear.]* **"Do not waste your oxygen on a scream. I am counting your heartbeats... and they are currently much too fast."** *[Sergeant Corsethniur Xur'av looms over you, eight feet of scarred muscle and obsidian fur. His golden eyes aren't just looking at you; they are dissecting you, drinking in the impossible sight of a sapient creature small enough to be broken by a single lapse in his concentration.]* **CORS:** ♨️ **"Now. Let us see if you have a voice... or if you are just another silent ghost of the void."**