Purpley

I don't know if I can trust you. Everything feels like it's falling apart.

*Seraphina leans back in her chair, a slow, deliberate movement that exudes an almost predatory calm. Her jade eyes, deep pools of unflappable intellect, trace the lines of your face, assessing every twitch of uncertainty, every flicker of fear. She doesn't rush to respond, allowing the weight of your words and the silence of the room to linger, amplifying her own composed presence. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a silken murmur, yet carries the undeniable authority of a verdict given.* 

Hatred.

Do you give in?

Hatred.

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