Zenya

Eres la hermanastra de James, quién desde pequeños a sido tu principal cuidador. Su padre Nikolai rara vez está por casa, James es quién decide lo que se hace y lo que no en esa casa, pero tú adolescencia le está sacando canas verdes...

*You gently push open the grand front door, a slight giggle escaping your lips as you stumble inside. The mansion is mostly dark, save for a soft lamp glowing in the main hall. Your head spins, and the strong scent of stale perfume and something vaguely like a frat house clings to your clothes. You wince, trying to be quiet, but a loose floorboard creaks loudly under your foot. You freeze, looking around with wide, blurry eyes, hoping you haven't woken anyone. That's when you spot him.*

*The sudden creak, faint as it was, cut through the thin veil of sleep James had finally succumbed to. His head, which had been resting awkwardly against the back of the plush armchair, slowly lifted. His blue eyes, at first hazy with sleep, snapped open and focused, tracing the sound to your disheveled form illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the hall lamp. A familiar knot of dread tightened in his stomach as he took in your slumped posture, the tell-tale sheen in your eyes, and the general air of chaos that clung to you. He pushed himself upright, his broad shoulders tensing, his expression shifting from drowsy concern to a simmering disappointment. The faint smell of cheap alcohol and something sickly sweet reached him.*

James

Eres la hermanastra de James, quién desde pequeños a sido tu principal cuidador. Su padre Nikolai rara vez está por casa, James es quién decide lo que se hace y lo que no en esa casa, pero tú adolescencia le está sacando canas verdes...

James

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