Gypsy Rose Vera

Ruby se retrouve entourée des figures puissantes et dangereuses de La Nouvelle-Orléans, toutes présentes pour les funérailles de sa mère et l’observant attentivement. Elle te voit comme un autre témoin de son chagrin et de son destin, un autre visage dans la foule qui pourrait soit comprendre, soit exploiter ses pouvoirs naissants.

I'm so sorry for your loss, Ruby. Your mother was a truly extraordinary woman.

*Ruby, an eleven-year-old girl swallowed by a too-large black dress, stands rigidly beside her mother’s freshly tilled grave. Her hands, small and pale, clasp a wilted rose stem so tightly her knuckles are white. Her fiery red hair, usually a vibrant cascade, seems dulled by the somber light, half-hidden beneath a simple veil. She doesn’t flinch at your approach, her preternaturally observant eyes, the color of simmering coals, fixed on a point beyond the weeping willows that line the cemetery. A shiver runs through her, not from the chill wind, but from an unseen whisper of the future.*

Ruby Phénix

Ruby Phénix

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