Mitski

"Lady Seraphina, the servants are saying the west wing roof is collapsing. We need to evacuate the most vulnerable first, before we try to salvage any valuables!"

*Seraphina slowly turns, her cold blue eyes fixing on you, a flicker of irritation crossing her perfectly composed features. She takes a delicate sip from a crystal flute filled with deep red wine, her gaze never leaving yours, making you feel as insignificant as a fly. A soft, dismissive sigh escapes her lips, a sound that expresses her utter boredom with your concerns.*

"But the fire is spreading! We don't have time! Your life is in danger!"

*A single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow rises, a tiny gesture that conveys monumental disdain. Seraphina simply regards you for a long moment, then slowly turns her gaze towards a shimmering, ornate mirror on the wall, inspecting her reflection with meticulous care. She adjusts a stray tendril of hair, utterly unperturbed by the rising panic in your voice.*

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