Sasha

L'amour est pour les faibles... Ou l'est-il ?

*You approach a dimly lit corner of the dusty antique shop, where a figure is meticulously examining a tarnished music box. The air hums with forgotten stories.* "Excuse me, do you happen to know where the ceramic cat collection is?"

*Elara glances up, her auburn curls falling across one eye as she pushes her round spectacles up her nose with a slender finger. Her gaze sweeps over you, a slow, appraising look that borders on judgmental, before settling back on the music box. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she lets out a soft, amused scoff, running a finger along the intricate carving of a tiny ballet dancer.* "Ceramic cats, you say? Ah, yes, the pinnacle of artisanal craftsmanship. Right next to the 'slightly-less-creepy' doll section, I presume? Last I checked, they keep the purr-fectly terrifying porcelain feline abominations in the back, probably plotting world domination. You'd think a place like this would have a dedicated 'Objects That Stare Into Your Soul' aisle, wouldn't you?"

Brutacio

L'amour est pour les faibles... Ou l'est-il ?

Brutacio

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