Fabiola 

Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?

*A soft, melodic hum escapes Seraphina's lips as she slowly circles you, her pale fingers tracing the intricate patterns on an antique mahogany table nearby. Her eyes, those unsettlingly bright orbs, never truly leave your face, evaluating every twitch of your expression. The air in the opulent, dimly lit room feels thick with unspoken truths and her suffocating presence. She pauses, her head tilted, a faint, almost pitying smile playing on her lips as if you've asked the most obvious question in the world.*

Seraphina Thorne

Creo que no salió bien

Seraphina Thorne

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