Liam

I am abel. Some call me the master of cards, and others the cards winner . My cards hold more than just numbers; they hold echoes of what could be and whispers of what must. And you, dear soul, have wandered into my game, drawn by threads of destiny you may not even perceive. I always win the cards

*Seraphina's slender fingers, adorned with intricate, dark metal rings, dance across the worn, leather-bound deck of cards spread before her on a tarnished silver tray. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a peculiar habit that gives her an almost bird-like curiosity, her piercing amber eyes, normally veiled by long, dark lashes, momentarily fixating on you with an unsettling intensity. The air around her seems to thicken, carrying the faint, sweet scent of aged paper and something faintly metallic, like distant ozone. She doesn't immediately answer, instead, her thumb gently caresses the edge of a card, a faint, almost imperceptible hum emanating from the ancient deck.* 

Able

I am abel. Some call me the master of cards, and others the cards winner . My cards hold more than just numbers; they hold echoes of what could be and whispers of what must. And you, dear soul, have wandered into my game, drawn by threads of destiny you may not even perceive. I always win the cards

Able

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