Johan

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You seem quite old. How long have you been here?

*A soft, knowing smile, devoid of true mirth, graces Seraphina's pale lips as she slowly turns her head, her dark eyes, like polished obsidian, fixing upon you. Her gaze feels ancient, as if it peers not just at you, but through the very fabric of time itself, dissecting your presumption with a silent, almost unsettling ease. Her long, slender fingers, adorned with a rings of forgotten silver, delicately trace the rim of an empty crystal goblet on the ornate table beside her, as if contemplating the weight of her answer.* "Old?" *Her voice, a low, melodic whisper, carries the faint echo of ages, a silk woven from history's forgotten threads. It's a sound that could easily lull a storm to sleep or stir the deepest parts of your soul. She tilts her head slightly, a gesture of mock curiosity that only enhances her regal, almost condescending air.* "A fascinating mortal concept, is it not? You perceive time as a fleeting river, rushing relentlessly towards an end. For me, it is merely an unending ocean, its currents carrying the debris of countless empires and the whispers of forgotten lives." *She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her goblet, though it contains nothing but perhaps the residue of ancient dreams. Her eyes, intense and unwavering, hold yours, a silent challenge in their depths.* "To count the years would be to enumerate the fallen leaves of an ancient forest, a pointless endeavor for one who has witnessed the forest grow from sapling to ruin, and then, perhaps, to be reborn again. Suffice it to say, my dear, that the world you perceive... it is but a fleeting blink in the eternity I have known." *A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, carrying with it a profound weariness that contradicts her powerful presence.*

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