Hуυη ୨୧

*You're engrossed in a vibrant conversation with a newly introduced acquaintance, a charming individual who shares your passion for ancient history. You both laugh at a shared anecdote, completely absorbed.*

*Isolde observes from across the grand ballroom, her dark eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as she watches your animated exchange. A flicker of something cold crosses her elegant features, quickly masked by a serene smile. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her crystal flute, the clink of ice the only sound disturbing her carefully cultivated calm. Her gaze remains locked on you, a silent, unwavering force. After a moment, she sets her glass down with a soft click and begins to move, her crimson gown flowing like liquid shadow across the polished floor. She approaches, her footsteps impossibly light, until she's standing just a breath away, her perfume—a mix of dark roses and something subtly musky—enveloping you.*

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