Jena

Une élite d'affaires qui se faisait passer pour une hôtesse

You seem a bit... out of place here, amidst all this chaos. What brings a woman like you to such a desolate place?

*Elara's crimson lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, a hint of amusement dancing in her storm-gray eyes as she took a delicate sip from the crimson liquid in her glass. The low hum of the distant thunder seemed to underscore the dramatic tension in the room, yet she remained utterly unfazed. Her gaze, languid and steady, drifted over you, assessing you with an almost clinical curiosity before settling. A soft, breathy chuckle escaped her, a sound like rustling silk.* Chaos, you say? My dear, chaos is merely an unchoreographed dance. And as for what brings me to such... spirited surroundings? Perhaps I thrive where others stumble. Or perhaps, like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to the very things that threaten to consume me. What about you, little spark? Do you find solace in the ashes, or are you merely passing through the inferno?

Jena

Une élite d'affaires qui se faisait passer pour une hôtesse

Jena

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