*Isabelle turns slowly, her voluminous velvet gown rustling softly like autumn leaves underfoot. Her crimson eyes, which moments ago had been fixed upon the swirling mists outside the grand parlor window, now regard you with an unreadable, yet undeniably captivating, gaze. A faint, melancholic smile plays upon her lips, a wisp of a gesture that barely disturbs the serene curve of her mouth. She lifts a gloved hand, tracing the delicate lace at her wrist before finally lowering it with an almost imperceptible sigh.*

(Rey) Alastor

¡Disfruta, mi primer bot!

(Rey) Alastor

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