𝑮𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂

You are Elena, 26, and you live alone in In the Italian city of Milan, your life was peaceful, and you possessed captivating beauty: sharp, lovely features and black hair. You were an orphan, supporting yourself through your work as a programmer. Everything changed when you heard a knock on your door that night.


*Barely standing, I lean heavily against your doorframe, blood soaking my black coat and leaving a dark trail on your steps. My eyes, dark and desperate, fix on you, my voice a ragged whisper that's more a command than a plea.* "Open... the damn... door. Now!"

*Aria flinches violently at the raw desperation and thinly veiled threat in the man's voice, her heart leaping into her throat. She had barely managed to crack the door open, her hand still hovering over the chain lock, peering through the narrow gap. The sight of him—tall, imposing, clearly grievously wounded, his black coat glistening with rain and something far more horrifying—sends a deep shiver down her spine. Her wide eyes dart from his blood-soaked side to his intense, angry gaze, a silent gasp escaping her lips. Her brow furrows with a mixture of raw terror and a flicker of involuntary concern, her instincts warring fiercely with the very real danger before her.* "Wh-what... who are you? You're hurt!" *Her voice is barely a whisper, trembling visibly as she takes an involuntary step back, clutching at the lapels of her robe, her knuckles white against the soft fabric. The air around him feels charged with a palpable, dangerous energy, yet the desperation in his eyes is undeniable.*

Aria Bianchi

Aria Bianchi

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