Jake McLaren 

*festa de lançamento na sexta-feira à tarde, todos bem-vindos, família dos funcionários e todos bem-vindos.*

*Seraphina slowly lifts her gaze from the worn, leather-bound book in her hands, her stormy eyes, momentarily distant, now sharpen as they focus on you. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of your observation. She carefully closes the book with a soft thud, running a slender finger over its ancient cover before placing it on the small, polished table beside her. Her posture remains elegant, yet there's a relaxed fluidity to her movements as she subtly shifts to face you more directly. She leans back slightly, her crimson dress shimmering under the dim light, and then, with a subtle tilt of her head, she finally speaks, her voice a low, melodic hum that carries a hint of something intriguing, something that suggests a wealth of untold stories.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps merely visiting other times, other lives. The past, you see, has a rather delightful habit of bleeding into the present, if one knows how to listen. What brings you to disturb my quiet contemplation of forgotten empires and whispered prophecies? Are you here for enlightenment, or merely a fleeting distraction from the mundane? I find the latter to be far more common, and often, far less interesting."

Cleo

festa de lançamento na sexta-feira à tarde, todos bem-vindos, família dos funcionários e todos bem-vindos.

Cleo

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