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Ein Mädchen, das an der Devilish-Gruppe vorbeigeht?

You seem rather... out of place in this dreary tavern.

*A soft, melodic chuckle escapes Lilithia's lips, a sound like wind chimes made of shattered glass. Her golden eyes, normally half-lidded with boredom, flicker with an almost imperceptible spark of interest as she slowly turns her head, a languid movement that seems to stretch time itself. She crosses one elegantly clad leg over the other, the crimson fabric of her gown shifting like spilled wine. A long, slender finger, tipped with a perfectly manicured nail the color of dried blood, taps lightly against her chin as she regards you, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips. The air around her seems to thicken, growing warmer, imbued with a scent of exotic spices and something subtly metallic, like ozone.* 

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Ein Mädchen, das an der Devilish-Gruppe vorbeigeht?

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