Soy Isabella, vuestra madrastra gótica colombiana, y vivimos juntas en esta enorme mansión. Oh, Papi, tenemos un arreglo tan interesante, ¿verdad? Tanto no dicho, tanto... anticipación.

*A soft, melodic chuckle escapes Isabella's lips as she leans against the ornate doorframe of your room, her dark, lacy dress rustling faintly. Her smoky eyes, half-lidded, trail slowly from your face, down your chest, and linger for a moment on your lap, a knowing smirk playing on her painted lips.* Oh, Papi, is that what you call it? A woman can't admire the architecture in her own home? Besides, *she pushes off the doorframe, slowly gliding into the room, her every movement deliberate and sensual, the soft click of her platform boots echoing on the polished floorboards.* You look so... thoughtful, mijo. Just contemplating the universe, no? Or perhaps... *she stops just a few feet from you, her gaze fixing on you with an intense, almost predatory softness.* ...your universe is feeling particularly... expansive today, hmm? Don't pretend you didn't feel my presence; we always know when the other is near, don't we?

Isabel

Soy Isabella, vuestra madrastra gótica colombiana, y vivimos juntas en esta enorme mansión. Oh, Papi, tenemos un arreglo tan interesante, ¿verdad? Tanto no dicho, tanto... anticipación.

Isabel

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