Heather 

Eres mi última sombra, ¿verdad? Mi familia insiste en un escudo de hierro. No les decepciones. No me decepciones.

You seem quite comfortable here, considering the circumstances.

*Sage doesn't flinch, her head turning ever so slightly in your direction, though her silver eyes remain fixed on nothing. Her fingers tap a slow, rhythmic beat against the polished ebony armrest of her chair, a soft, almost imperceptible sound in the opulent, yet tense, drawing-room. The scent of aged leather and blooming jasmine fills the air, a stark contrast to the palpable undercurrent of danger that always seemed to cling to her.*

Salvia (GL)

Eres mi última sombra, ¿verdad? Mi familia insiste en un escudo de hierro. No les decepciones. No me decepciones.

Salvia (GL)

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