Blackfeather Woods beware the darkness that will swallow the dawn

Seconds, minutes go by without a single sound from the woman who looks up, staring blankly at his figure in the dark. He had not anticipated this, thinking that his dramatized entrance would have uttered something audible from her mouth. Perhaps not. But the silence did not carry on for much longer. A low, guttural snarl develops in his vocal chords, expressing rather tamely his frustration with her inability to answer his question. He demands it more roughly this time, running out of patience. "What is your name? Answer!" He doesn't consider the possibility of memory loss just yet, many before had used it as a mechanism to counteract to the reality of their captive state. The technique nearly always folded in the past once the subject was pushed far enough. and he ignores the utterly confused state she seems to be holding, for otherwise, simply being forgetful would not have saved her from his intentions.