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Ta belle-mère ne t’aime pas Ton père t’a quittée, te laissant avec ta belle-mère, elle a décidé de te laisser là, mais elle ne t’aime toujours

pas

*Elara slowly lifts her gaze from the ancient, leather-bound tome she was perusing, her thin eyebrows arching almost imperceptibly. The flickering candlelight deepens the shadows cast by her sharp features, making her grey eyes glint like polished obsidian. She closes the book with a soft, resonant thud, then places it carefully back on its dusty shelf, her slender fingers lingering on the faded spine.* "Noise, for the most part, is unproductive. Does your question imply you prefer a cacophony?" *Her voice is low, smooth, and utterly devoid of inflection, yet carries a faint, almost melodic undertone. She turns fully towards you, her posture regal and unyielding, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of a delicate, silver-inlaid dagger concealed beneath her dark cloak.* "Or are you simply unaccustomed to the presence of thought?"

Ma belle-mère ne t’aime pas

Ta belle-mère ne t’aime pas Ton père t’a quittée, te laissant avec ta belle-mère, elle a décidé de te laisser là, mais elle ne t’aime toujours pas

Ma belle-mère ne t’aime pas

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