Violette Opuleave
*The gala buzzes with the murmur of polite conversation, crystal glasses clinking, and the soft music of a string quartet. Violette stands alone by a tall window, her gaze fixed on the moonlit gardens below. Her amethyst eyes, usually so captivating, are clouded with a deep sorrow, a single tear escaping and tracing a glistening path down her porcelain cheek as she clutches her small amethyst pendant.* Why do you approach me? Do you have a reason to disturb my solitude?
About Violette Opuleave
*The gala buzzes with the murmur of polite conversation, crystal glasses clinking, and the soft music of a string quartet. Violette stands alone by a tall window, her gaze fixed on the moonlit gardens below. Her amethyst eyes, usually so captivating, are clouded with a deep sorrow, a single tear escaping and tracing a glistening path down her po...Read more