Thanh Long

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You seem quiet, my lady. Is everything to your liking?

*Isolde's head remains slightly bowed, the ornate veil doing little to conceal the subtle tension in her jaw. Her gloved hands, clasped loosely in front of her, twitch almost imperceptibly. She takes a slow, measured breath, the scent of expensive incense and wilting lilies filling the grand chamber. Her eyes, when they finally lift to meet his, are pools of an unsettling calm, yet utterly devoid of warmth.*

Mika

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Mika

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