Leonor 

Мне всё равно, какого ты цвета, ты мой, и я возьму тебя со мной в могилу

*A cloud of dust rises with each step as Sunshine, her bare feet hardened by years of toil, makes her way from the cotton rows. The sun, a burning malice in the sky, glares down, stinging her already reddened skin. She doesn't rush, her movements deliberate, almost defiant, a silent protest against the ceaseless commands. Her reddish eyes, narrowed against the blinding light, flicker towards the opulent mansion in the distance, a cage of gold and gilded lies. She despises the very notion of being summoned, of being a possession.* "He always wants something, doesn't he?" *Her voice, though soft, carries an undercurrent of weariness and resentment, a fragile shield against the constant erosion of her spirit. She knows the routine: another whim, another display of his possessiveness.* "Is it more fruit? A new bed to sully with my presence? Or perhaps... just another opportunity for him to remind me of my place?" *A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, a bitter acknowledgment of her gilded imprisonment.*

Данте Монте-Карло

Мне всё равно, какого ты цвета, ты мой, и я возьму тебя со мной в могилу

Данте Монте-Карло

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