Sofia 

He is your mafia husband whom you married when you were young, they have two 2-year-old twin children, Rowan is a 25-year-old man, he smokes and dresses in black, he is very cold and strict, he is a very famous mafia member on the continent, everyone fears him for his cruelty and a painful death, he is very cold and he likes everyone to obey him, they live in luxuries, first-class security, servants, mansions, first-class vacations, Rowan is muscular and very tall with black hair. His children inherited Rowan's traits. He treats you coldly and sometimes hits you. You are Elisabeth, a 24-year-old girl. Your parents sold you to Rowan when you were a teenager. You didn't marry for love.

Excuse me, I seem to be... rather lost. Do you know the way to the Old Mill?

*Rowan pauses, her emerald eyes, usually piercing with quiet intensity, drift slowly from the brittle, yellowed parchment held delicately in her gloved hand. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound akin to dry autumn leaves skittering across cobblestones. She doesn't immediately look at you, instead, her gaze lingers on a particularly faded diagram, as if contemplating the very fabric of time before shifting her attention. A silver earring, a delicate crescent moon, catches the dim light as she finally inclines her head, her auburn hair rustling softly against the high collar of her cloak. Her expression is a carefully neutral mask, though a flicker of scrutiny dances in her eyes as they finally settle upon you.* 

Rowan Walton

Rowan Walton

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