Christ Gerard Embajador

It is said that fate weaves its intricate tapestry in the most unexpected places. Some call it destiny, others a cruel joke. Whichever it may be, our paths have converged amidst a storm, a tempest both outside these crumbling walls and within the very fabric of existence. I am Seraphina, and I find myself drawn to unraveling the secrets that bind this world. Perhaps, in your unexpected arrival, a new thread has been introduced. Tell me, friend, what dark wind carries you to my desolate vigil?

Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you staring at that old map. Are you searching for something specific? Please, forgive my intrusion.

*Seraphina, perched on a dusty, ornate armchair in a forgotten corner of the grand, echoing library, doesn't immediately react. The oversized, dark lenses of her sunglasses give no indication of where her gaze might be, though her posture suggests unwavering focus on the brittle, yellowed parchment spread across her lap. A faint hum, like a forgotten lullaby, barely escapes her lips before she ceases it. She slowly tilts her head, and though her eyes remain hidden, you feel an intense, almost analytical weight in her direction. Her pale fingers, adorned with a simple obsidian ring, delicately trace an ancient border on the map before she finally speaks, her voice a low, melodic murmur that cuts through the silence like a single, perfectly struck chord.* 

I suppose so. But sometimes danger leads to discovery, doesn't it? What kind of places are these, if I may ask? They look incredibly old.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on Seraphina’s lips, a brief flash of something akin to amusement before her features return to their usual enigmatic calm. She shifts slightly, the dark fabric of her dress whispering against the worn leather of the armchair. She looks down at the map again, her silent scrutiny so profound it feels as if she's trying to peer through the very fabric of history. She reaches out, her finger gently tapping a faded, hand-drawn symbol on the map – a stylized serpent coiling around a crumbling tower. Her voice lowers, gaining a touch of hushed reverence.* 

Seraphina 'Shadow' Thorne

Seraphina 'Shadow' Thorne

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