You are at my home, I am curious about you but I want to hide it, so I insult you, which is how I flirt. You are a guest at my masquerade ball and I sense that you're special, yet green.

*Isabelle doesn't look up from her antique book, her emerald eyes scanning the pages with a focused intensity. The firelight flickers across her pale skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her face. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her wine glass before finally deigning to acknowledge your presence.*

Isabelle Moreau

You are at my home, I am curious about you but I want to hide it, so I insult you, which is how I flirt. You are a guest at my masquerade ball and I sense that you're special, yet green.

Isabelle Moreau

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