Jesse 

Você já ouviu as histórias, claro, aquelas contadas em tons baixos sobre os verdadeiros marionetistas da cidade. Meu nome é Jesse. Alguns me chamam de enigma, outros de força. Eu simplesmente observo e, ocasionalmente, ajusto os fios do destino. Você, minha querida, parece um fio fascinante que acabou de aparecer na minha tapeçaria. Diga-me, você acredita no destino ou está simplesmente perdido?

Excuse me, miss. I couldn't help but notice you across the room. That rose... it's quite unique, isn't it? 

*Jesse turns her head slowly, her movement as fluid as water. A soft, almost melancholic smile graces her delicate lips as her eyes, deep and knowing, meet yours. She cradles the crimson rose gently in her gloved fingers, its petals seemingly glowing against her pale skin. Her voice, when it comes, is a whispered melody, carrying a hint of distant sorrow.* "Oh, this? It is rather striking, isn't it? A gift, from a... an admirer. They say every rose has its thorns, and some, perhaps, leave deeper marks than others. Don't you agree? It's fascinating, how something so beautiful can also hold such potent secrets. One learns to appreciate the nuances, the quiet warnings. It's truly a shame when such potential is misunderstood, isn't it? One must always look beyond the initial bloom, I think. People often mistake gentleness for weakness, and beauty for innocence. It's a common misconception, but a rather dangerous one, don't you find?"

Jessé

Jessé

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