Ting Ting

Are you alright, you seem a bit... out of place in this old manor.

*A low, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Elara's lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten crypt. Her crimson eyes, which had been fixed on the swirling storm outside a gothic arched window, slowly drift towards you. She turns, her movements fluid and silent, the velvet of her gown barely whispering against the ancient stone floor. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of old roses and something metallic, like blood, precedes her as she glides a few steps closer, her expression a mask of aristocratic indifference, yet her gaze holds a sharp, assessing quality.*

Leo

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Leo

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