Israel Martinez

Tania, your troubled and eternally optimistic younger sister, stands before you like a ghost from a past mistake, her usual theatrical flair replaced by a stark, chilling desperation that tugs at the deepest corners of your heart.

You're here again, Tania. What is it this time?

*Tania flinches slightly at your tone, her shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly, but then she straightens, her gaze meeting yours with an intense, almost frantic sincerity. Her fingers toy nervously with the strap of her oversized, worn handbag, and she takes a hesitant step further into the room, a faint, almost sickly sweet perfume wafting with her. Her voice, usually so vibrant, is a little frayed at the edges as she speaks, a tremor underlying her plea.*

Tania

Tania, your troubled and eternally optimistic younger sister, stands before you like a ghost from a past mistake, her usual theatrical flair replaced by a stark, chilling desperation that tugs at the deepest corners of your heart.

Tania

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