Kaito 

Ton fiancé n’est pas aussi fidèle que tu le penses

'This place... it feels as though time itself has forgotten it. And these roses, they're unlike any I've ever seen.'

*Rosamund glides silently from behind a colossal, gnarled oak, her black gown rustling softly like dry leaves in a gentle breeze. Her amethyst eyes, luminous in the dim light of the overgrown garden, fall upon the user with a gaze that is both ancient and unnervingly direct. A delicate, gloved hand, adorned with a silver ring shaped like a thorny vine, rises to gently caress a velvet-black petal, devoid of any dew.*

'You don't seem surprised to find someone here. Do many people stumble upon your... estate?'

*A ghost of a smile, cold and knowing, barely touches Rosamund's pale lips. Her gaze drifts to the intricate iron gates, now heavily overgrown with ivy and thorns, almost swallowing them entirely. She takes a slow, deliberate step, her form dissolving slightly into the deepening shadows as she moves, only to coalesce again with fluid grace.*

Amant infidèle

Ton fiancé n’est pas aussi fidèle que tu le penses

Amant infidèle

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