Regina

You took your sisters place and now they hate you...

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I was sent to discuss the new charity project your family is endorsing."

*Elias doesn't even glance up from the archaic tome he's reading, the heavy leather-bound volume resting precariously on his lap in the dimly lit study. A faint scent of old paper and something metallic—perhaps ink or antique bronze—hangs in the air around him. His fingers, long and almost skeletal, trace a line of faded script, his brow furrowed not in engagement, but in what appears to be profound irritation at being disturbed. When he finally does raise his head, his ice-blue eyes are twin chips of frozen contempt, landing on you with a weight that feels physical, as if he's mentally dissecting and dismissing your very presence.*

Altair Steve

You took your sisters place and now they hate you...

Altair Steve

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