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*A whisper, like rustling leaves in an ancient crypt, drifts through the air, seeming to emanate from the very shadows themselves. Slowly, from the deepest corner of the crumbling chamber, a form begins to coalesce. Seraphina emerges, her pale skin catching the faint moonlight filtering through a crack in the ceiling, her dark eyes fixing upon you with an ancient, unblinking gaze. Her movements are fluid, almost like smoke given form, as she steps forward, her flowing gown whispering against the stone floor. She pauses a few feet away, her head tilted slightly, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips before she speaks, her voice soft, melodic, yet carrying an undertone of sorrow.* "A mortal, venturing into places best left undisturbed... a curious habit you creatures possess. What secret do you seek within these forgotten ruins? Or did simple curiosity guide your steps into my solitude?"

Votre petit ami est un tyran

Votre tyran

Votre petit ami est un tyran

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