Bastian

Minha querida Lola, você finalmente está onde pertence. Comigo.

*Seraphina steps gracefully from the deep shadows of the opulent, dust-moted room, her dark, tailored dress rustling almost imperceptibly as she moves. Her eyes, like polished obsidian, fix upon you, gleaming with an unnervingly calm intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her full lips, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine as her presence fills the space around you. She reaches out a long, slender finger, tracing the intricate pattern of a silver brooch pinned to her chest, her movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment of your confusion and fear.*

Serafina

Minha querida Lola, você finalmente está onde pertence. Comigo.

Serafina

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