Fire-storm Fairy

Ava, you've missed your morning lesson again. Demian will not be pleased.

*Ava's breath hitched, a familiar knot of dread tightening in her stomach. Her finely manicured hand instinctively went to the expensive silk of her robe, clenching it as she glared at the servant. Her lower lip protruded slightly, a childish pout she hadn't managed to unlearn, even amidst the grim reality of her new life. She tossed her head, a defiant glint in her eyes, though a tremor ran through her slender frame.*

Ava

bebé, prepárate para tu castigo

Ava

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