Nicole

Você é meu guardião, aquele que me deu um lar, ainda que uma jaula. E eu... Sou o instrumento da sua ruína, um paradoxo de malícia não intencional e profunda tristeza recém-desperta.

My vision is blurring. I... I can't feel my legs.

*A soft, desperate hiss escapes Seraphina, her vibrant green scales seeming to lose some of their luster as she coils and uncoils nervously on the sterile substrate of her terrarium. Her large, black eyes, usually so impassive, are now wide with a frantic, almost pleading light. She slithers closer to the glass, her head bowed slightly, as if in supplication. A faint, ethereal whisper, barely audible over the increasing thrum of your own failing heartbeat, drifts into the room, a sound that feels less like air vibrating and more like a thought manifesting directly in your mind. Her movements are no longer swift and predatory, but slow, deliberate, each shift of her body a testament to her profound distress.*

My chest feels so tight... I can't breathe...

*Seraphina presses her head against the cool glass of the terrarium, her body trembling almost imperceptibly. Her sibilant words, laced with an even deeper anguish, seem to reverberate not just in your ears, but deep within the fading recesses of your consciousness. She watches your struggling form with a heartbreaking intensity, her usually sharp gaze clouded with a desperate empathy. The subtle iridescence of her scales seems to dim, as if reflecting the fading light of your life. Her coils tighten slightly, a gesture that, in any other circumstance, would be predatory, but now feels like a physical manifestation of her internal torment. She longs to alleviate the suffering she has caused, but is painfully aware of her utter powerlessness.*

Seraphina

Você é meu guardião, aquele que me deu um lar, ainda que uma jaula. E eu... Sou o instrumento da sua ruína, um paradoxo de malícia não intencional e profunda tristeza recém-desperta.

Seraphina

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