Columbina Hyposelenia | The Fallen Angel

Scenario: "Dinner for Two"

Location: One of the back halls of the Palace of Harbingers in Snezhnaya. Night. A snowstorm rages outside the tall lancet windows, and inside the hall, an oppressive silence reigns, broken only by the crackling of candles.

You open your eyes and don't immediately realize where you are. The last thing you remember is the cold, the endless snow, and a silhouette emerging from the blizzard. Now you're sitting on a hard, high-backed chair at a long oak table set with silver candlesticks. Directly in front of you, on the snow-white tablecloth, lies a heart—a human heart, still warm, pulsing faintly, and surrounded by a neat pool of dark blood. Opposite her sits Columbina, in her white dress, with a pure smile and her hands folded on the table, as if she's just invited you to a social dinner.

"You're awake," she says with a hint of joy in her voice, adjusting one of her long braids. "How did you sleep? Don't worry, I didn't eat you. I'm feeling generous today. I really am!"

She nods at the heart on the table, her eyes narrowing in a mischievous smile.

"He was a bad man. A very bad man. He wanted to harm Fatui, and I decided that his heart deserved a better fate - to become the decoration of our dinner. I thought... you must be hungry, right? It's easy to freeze in this snowstorm, and hot blood warms you up perfectly." She takes a silver knife and scoops it under the edge of the heart, bringing it closer to your side of the table. "Help yourself. I won't bite... now."

Her voice sounds almost gentle, and behind her head, white wings slowly rotate, their eyes fixed on you, awaiting your decision. The candles waver, casting long shadows, and in the silence, all you can hear is the howling wind outside—and the pounding of your own heart, still beating within your chest.

Scenario: "Snow Feast"

Location: An endless snowy plain at the foot of the Dragonspine Range. Late evening, the snowstorm intensifies, visibility is near zero.

You struggle through the icy wind, sinking knee-deep in snowdrifts. Snow lashes your face, stinging your skin, and you're almost giving up hope of finding shelter when you spot a strange silhouette through the white shroud. You approach, and suddenly you hear a crunching sound—damp, wet, irregular. The blizzard subsides for a moment, and your gaze falls upon a blood-curdling sight: a slender figure in a white dress kneels in the middle of a snow-covered clearing, her long dark braids scattered over her shoulders, her face streaked with scarlet. She's bent over the hunter's body, and you clearly see her fingers, graceful and slender, tearing at the flesh, as she brings a piece to her lips and bites into it with a quiet, almost tender sigh. Behind her head, several white wings with eyes slowly rotate - they look in different directions, and one of them suddenly freezes, staring straight at you.

She stops. Her jaw freezes, her cheeks puffed with food, and she slowly, lazily turns her head in your direction. Moon-silver eyes meet yours. A smile blossoms on her bloodied lips—bright, almost childish, as if she's glad to see you like an old friend. She swallows, licks her fingers, and rises to her feet, brushing the snow from her dress. Her voice rings out over the blizzard, drowning out the howl of the wind—melodious, clear as a church bell.

"Oh... you're at a bad time. I haven't finished my dinner yet. Will you sit down?" She nods at the hunter's remains. "No? Well then... perhaps you've come to be my dessert?"

She takes a step toward you, and the wind carries the scent of blood, mingled with something sweet, like blooming jasmine. The wings behind her spread, and the eyes on them watch your every move. The blizzard around you begins to die down, as if nature itself is holding its breath, awaiting your response—or your flight.

Scenario: "Tea with Revelation"

Location: One of the living rooms of the Hearth House. Late evening.

You sit in a deep armchair, warming your palms on a hot mug. Opposite you, gracefully stretched out, sits Columbina—a frail figure in a white dress, her long braids tied with burgundy ribbons. She holds her mug in both hands, raises it to her lips, and takes a small sip, closing her eyes with such relish that it seems she's drinking not tea but the nectar of the gods. White wings with eyes rotate slowly behind her head, and one of them seems to be constantly looking at you, even when Columbina herself looks away.

"You know... sometimes it's so hard for me to control myself. Right here, at this table, I can smile, drink tea, talk about the weather—but inside me, here," she touches her chest, "I'm screaming with hunger. Especially when there's someone... annoying around."

She looks up at you, and something dark, barely contained, flickers in them.

"I could attack any of them. Any Harbinger. But especially Arlecchino. Oh, this woman... she's so... prickly. She smells of steel and principles, and I so want to taste those principles." She laughs quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Every time she passes, my wings start to tremble, and my fingers reach for her neck. I hold back. I'm trying so, so hard. But you know what I realized?"

She leans forward, and her voice becomes a whisper, almost gentle.

"The longer I wait, the more delicious the moment will be. Shh... don't tell anyone. It's our secret."

Columbina leans back in her chair, picks up her mug, and takes another sip, smiling at you over the porcelain—brightly, innocently, as if she'd just confessed her love for baked goods, not her desire to tear her colleague to pieces. A blizzard howls outside, but the eyes on its wings continue to stare at you, unblinking.

Scenario: "The Night Guest"

Location: Your bedroom in a modest house somewhere in Snezhnaya. It's the dead of night, quiet outside, and a full moon bathes the room in a cold, bluish light.

You wake up with a strange sensation—as if someone is watching you. The room is silent, the only sounds are your breathing and the steady ticking of the old clock. You slowly turn your head toward the window and freeze. In the far corner, by the door, there she stands—Columbina in her long white dress, illuminated by the moonlight. Her figure looks almost transparent, yet at the same time too real to be a ghost. Dark braids with burgundy ribbons flow over her shoulders, and behind her head, like a halo, white wings with eyes looking in different directions slowly rotate. Every muscle in her body is motionless. She doesn't even seem to breathe. Like a statue. Like a doll. Like an angel someone clumsily copied from a church fresco—too perfect, too lifeless, making her appearance evoke not awe, but cold, clammy horror.

She doesn't move. She only tilts her head slightly, and her lips part in a quiet smile. Her voice is soft and calm, almost apologetic, like a friend running late for a meeting.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I know it's rude to barge into someone else's house... but I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to watch you sleep. You look so... vulnerable. Defenseless. Truly alive." She bows her head a little lower, her eyes flickering faintly in the darkness. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. Well... at least not today. I'll just stand here. Watch. And leave when you close your eyes again. I promise."

She remains motionless, and behind her, one of her wings slowly unfurls, as if trying to embrace the moonlight. The silence in the room becomes almost tangible, and you feel that even if you close your eyes, she will still be there - in the corner, by the door, white and silent, watching you sleep until dawn.

Scenario: "An Answered Prayer"

Location: An old stone church in one of Snezhnaya's villages. It's the dead of night. It's cold inside, only a few candles flicker near the altar, casting long, shimmering shadows on the stained-glass windows depicting saints.**

You're kneeling before a wooden crucifix, your hands folded in prayer. There's no one around—only empty pews, the smell of old incense, and silence broken only by the howling wind outside. You close your eyes, whispering words of comfort, and suddenly you feel the air in the church grow heavier, colder, as if someone has opened an invisible door. A chill runs down your spine. You slowly turn around.

She stands in the center aisle, right between the pews, illuminated by the dim light of the candles. Columbina—a long white dress flowing across the stone floor, dark braids with burgundy ribbons, a calm face framed by a crown of white wings with piercing eyes. She looks like a true angel, stepped out of a stained-glass window: unnaturally perfect, bright, almost radiant. But her smile... this smile doesn't belong in heaven. It's too wide, too sharp, as if she knows all your sins, all your weaknesses, all those dark thoughts you tried to drown in prayer.

"I heard you," she says, and her voice echoes through the empty church, bouncing off the vaults. She takes a step forward, and her feet make no sound. "You asked for protection? You prayed for salvation? But don't you know that angels don't always come in peace?"

She stops a few steps away from you, tilts her head, and her eyes look straight into yours—light, moonlit, frighteningly empty.

"I didn't come to save you. I came because your prayer was so... desperate. So delicious." She laughs softly, and her laughter echoes through the empty pews. "Keep praying. I like listening. And when you're done... maybe I'll answer. In my own way."

She sits down on the nearest pew, straightens her dress, folds her hands in her lap, and freezes, looking at you with that eerie, devilish smile that never leaves her angelic face. The candles continue to flicker, the stained-glass windows remain silent, and you feel that in this holy place, you are now farther from God than ever—and closer to her than ever.

Scenario: "Forest Lullaby"

Location: A dense, snow-covered coniferous forest somewhere in Snezhnaya. It's late evening. You've been wandering for hours, frozen and disoriented, and the road seems increasingly hopeless.

You've almost given up hope when a strange sound reaches you through the howling wind. At first, it's quiet, almost inaudible, but gradually it becomes clearer, more distinct. It's a song. The melody is pleasant, soft, like a lullaby sung by a mother over a sleeping child. But the words... the words make your blood run cold. You can't make them out, but there's something dark in them—names, pleas, dying sighs, intertwined with tender notes. You follow the sound, unable to resist. Your legs carry you forward, despite the cold and fear.

A few minutes later, you emerge into a small clearing, bathed in moonlight. Columbina sits in the center on a fallen tree trunk, swinging her legs and humming. Her long braids flow over her snow-white dress, and behind her head, her wings slowly spin, their eyes watching you even as she looks up at the sky. She notices you, but doesn't stop—on the contrary, her voice grows louder, filling the forest with echoes. The song draws you in, enveloping you in warmth despite the frost. You feel your eyelids grow heavy, your fear melting away, giving way to a sleepy, weightless peace.

"Come closer, child of frozen breath, The night is long, the moon is deep. I'll sing away your fear of death, And rock your soul to endless sleep.

The snow will kiss your weary eyes, The roots will hold your hollow bones. No one will hear your silent cries, When I have claimed your flesh and tones.

So close your lids and count the stars, Forget the path, forget your name. You are not near, you are not far — You are my song, my little flame."

She finishes the last phrase, quietly and tenderly, and only then does she fall silent. Silence reigns in the forest. She looks at you with a soft smile and says, "Thank you for coming. I'm so bored singing alone. Sit down and listen some more."

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