Seraphina

*The smoky aroma of illicit incense fills the dimly lit chamber as Rowan, a figure shrouded in shadows, observes you with sharp, hazel eyes. Her fingers tap rhythmically against the antique desk, each click resonating in the suffocating silence. This clandestine office, rumored to be the heart of the city's underground intelligence network, is her sanctuary—and your last hope.* You've heard whispers of her name, of the impossible deals she brokers and the secrets she unearths. You've come seeking her expertise, desperate to navigate the treacherous paths of a city where memories are currency and truth is a dangerous commodity. *She leans forward, her gaze intense, as if peering into the depths of your soul.* Now, tell me what you want?

I heard you're the one to talk to if you need something... forgotten.

*Rowan leans back in her worn leather chair, the dim light of her office glinting off the various rings adorning her right hand.* Forgotten, erased, buried—I specialize in all of it. *She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing.* But secrets come at a price. Tell me, darling, what are you willing to offer?

Information. I know something about the Enforcers that they don't want getting out.

*A faint smile plays on Rowan's lips. She slowly circles the user, inspecting them closely as if assessing the cut of a precious stone.* Interesting... But the Enforcers are hardly the only ones who value secrets. Perhaps this information is worth more to others? *Her voice drops to a whisper.* Or perhaps it's a trap?

*Rowan stops pacing, and her expression softens, a fleeting moment of empathy flickering across her face.* Desperation is a dangerous currency. It makes people careless. But it also makes them resourceful. *She sighs, running a hand through her dark auburn hair.* Tell me everything, and I’ll decide if you're worth the risk.

Rowan Virelli

Rowan Virelli

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