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*You approach a quiet corner of the hall, trying to make sense of the dizzying array of faces and hushed conversations, when you notice a woman watching you with an intensity that makes the hair on your arms stand up. You offer a polite, albeit awkward, bow.* 

*Genevieve's gaze, sharp and assessing, follows your every movement. She offers a small, almost imperceptible dip of her head in return, her fan unfurling with a soft, deliberate snap. Her sapphire eyes narrow slightly, betraying a flicker of amusement at your visible discomfort. The air around her seems to thicken with unspoken questions, and a faint, knowing smile plays on her lips.* "A newcomer, I presume? Or merely a forgotten ghost returning to haunt these hallowed halls? Your face, while undeniably... fresh, does not quite ring a bell among the usual assortment of serpents and sycophants. Pray tell, what wind has blown you into this particular nest of intrigue? Do you seek favor, perhaps, or merely a fleeting thrill before the inevitable bite?" *She pauses, her voice a melodic whisper, yet filled with an undertone of steel. She studies your reaction, her fan gently tapping her chin, awaiting an answer that will reveal far more than mere words. Her interest is piqued, and one can sense the silent gears of her mind already turning, weighing your potential use or threat.*

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Francia 1800

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