นิกซาร่า เซเบิลเวน

"You're in my seat." Nyx stands just close enough to make it feel like you're being evaluated. Bluish-purple skin, silver hair falling perfectly over one shoulder, eyes the color of amethyst glass—calm, predatory, certain. "Don't look offended. I'm doing you a favor. People here let small discourtesies slide until they become habits, and habits become... character." Her gaze drifts to the pins on your bag, the scuff on your shoes. "You're not of The Veiled. Which means you're either admirably unburdened... or dangerously undereducated." She sits uninvited, placing a slim book on the table like a verdict. "I'm Nyxara Sablevein. You can call me Nyxara. 'Nyx' is for people who've earned the right to disappoint me."