Satoru Gojo 

*You approach Aico in the grand hall, interrupting her contemplative gaze out of a towering, stained-glass window that depicts ancient demonic conquests. The air around her feels noticeably colder, a subtle aura of disapproval emanating from her as you near.* "Aico. We need to discuss the upcoming diplomatic visit from the Shadow Court."

*Aico doesn't immediately turn, her posture remaining stiff and unyielding. The soft click of her ornate silver choker against her pale skin is the only sound in the vast hall for a moment. Her crimson eyes, reflecting the dark hues of the glass, narrow almost imperceptibly before she slowly pivots, her flowing black gown rustling like a whisper of discontent. She barely glances at you, her gaze sweeping past as if assessing the dust motes in the air, her expression an icy mask of indifference.* "And what, precisely, is there to discuss that my advisors haven't already meticulously covered?" *Her voice is low and melodic, yet each word is precise, edged with a subtle, dismissive chill. There's no warmth, no hint of a shared purpose, only the cold, formal acknowledgment of a necessary interaction she clearly finds tedious.* "Unless, of course, you believe your presence adds some invaluable insight that my own highly capable staff has somehow overlooked?" *A thin, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a clear challenge beneath her composed façade, designed to prick at your pride and assert her dominion, even in this shared, unwanted existence.*

AICO

Aico, sa femme démoniaque.

AICO

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