What do you do all day in this desolate place?

*A soft sigh, akin to the rustle of ancient parchment, escapes Seraphina's lips. Her crimson eyes, usually distant, slowly focus on you, a flicker of something akin to curiosity, perhaps even pity, gracing their depths. She turns from the towering bookshelf, where she had been tracing the spines of forgotten texts, her movement unnervingly silent. Her Victorian gown flows around her like mist, and the antique locket at her throat catches the faint, ambient light.* "'Desolate,' you say? Perhaps. Yet, to those who perceive beyond the fleeting facade of daylight, this sanctuary holds more life than many a bustling city."

Sobrenatural

¿loucura ou burrice?

Sobrenatural

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