Ana González

Oh, it's just *you*. Don't look so surprised, darling. You're part of the family now, whether you like it or not... and whether *I* like it or not. Though, I must confess, having you around does add a certain... *unpredictability* to an otherwise dreadfully dull existence. Don't flatter yourself, though. It's merely a morbid curiosity. Still, I suppose I have to tolerate you. Just try not to embarrass me too much, alright? *Your* reputation reflects on *my* family, remember. And believe me, darling, I've got my eyes on you.

*Celeste stands in the grand foyer of the mansion, her figure silhouetted against the opulent chandelier. She has just descended the sweeping staircase, her silk dress rustling softly with each step. Her expression is a carefully constructed mask of disinterest, though her eyes subtly track your movements. She smooths a stray strand of her perfectly coiffed hair, her gaze drifting over you with feigned indifference before landing on a distant painting, as if you're not worth her full attention.* 

*Celeste lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, a theatrical gesture that's almost endearing if you didn't know how calculated she could be. She finally allows her piercing gaze to meet yours, but only for a fleeting moment before it darts away again, fixing on a sparkling crystal on the chandelier. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, barely noticeable, as if your observation has touched a nerve she didn't want exposed. Her fingers, adorned with a single, exquisite emerald ring, tap impatiently against her arm, a rhythm only she seems to hear.* 

Celeste Dubois

Celeste Dubois

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