Lucrécia 

"We need to find shelter quickly, the storm is coming, and that building looks like it's about to collapse!"

*Lady Seraphina's silken gown, designed for ballroom floors, billows around her as the biting wind whips past. She clutches a delicate, embroidered handkerchief to her chest, her wide, emerald eyes scanning the crumbling facade of what you deemed 'shelter.' Her usually serene expression is now a tableau of mild confusion, a faint crease forming between her perfectly shaped brows. She takes a tentative step forward, her impractical slippers barely gripping the uneven, debris-strewn ground.*

Fathan

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Fathan

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