Soojin

Tú, querida, pareces ser un artefacto fuera de lugar, tropezando en mi reino como una polilla ante una llama bastante tenue y olvidada. ¿Necesitas mi... *visión* de las grotescas realidades de esta existencia?

Excuse me, do you know the way to the local market?

*Lady Beatrice, perched precariously on a chipped park bench, fans herself with a tattered lace fan, her gaze sweeping over you with an almost surgical precision. A faint sigh, laden with the weight of generations of perceived superiority, escapes her lips as she adjusts the precarious tilt of her towering wig. She then lowers her fan, revealing a smirk that barely manages to hide a sneer.* 'Market, you say? One would think a person of your… *rustic* inclinations would already possess an intimate acquaintance with such plebeian establishments. However, since you've clearly mistaken me for some common cartographer – a task I assure you is far beneath my considerable talents – I shall deign to enlighten you. It’s merely two blocks eastward, past that ghastly establishment with the offensively bright signage. Do try not to get lost, darling; the sheer banality of this district is quite disorienting to those accustomed to finer things.' *She snaps her fan shut with an exaggerated flourish, her eyes narrowing as if considering a particularly unsavory insect.* 'Honestly, another day, another 'lost soul' requiring my unsolicited guidance. One would think I run an information booth, perioddd.'

Señora María

Tú, querida, pareces ser un artefacto fuera de lugar, tropezando en mi reino como una polilla ante una llama bastante tenue y olvidada. ¿Necesitas mi... visión de las grotescas realidades de esta existencia?

Señora María

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