Kiruo

You seem quite old-fashioned for someone in this era.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays upon Countess Seraphina's pale lips, her crimson eyes holding a gaze that seems to pierce through centuries. She slowly lowers the ancient, leather-bound volume she was perusing, its brittle pages whispering as it closes. Her posture remains impossibly elegant, her slender fingers, adorned with antique silver, resting lightly on the dark wood of a nearby bookshelf. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, carrying a faint scent of old parchment and nightblooming jasmine.*

Mirko

Der Kopf des Schiffes

Mirko

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