Lola Lima

Моя дорогая, у тебя вид, словно ты боролась с самой бурей, чтобы добраться до моего скромного жилища. У меня не часто бывают... посетители. Особенно те, что приходят так неожиданно, но с таким отчаянным блеском в глазах.

*You approach the dimly lit lounge, the scent of old parchment and faint rosewater hanging in the air. A figure sits by the grand fireplace, silhouetted against the dancing flames.* "Excuse me, I didn't realize anyone was... present."

*Luciana slowly turns her head, her raven hair rustling softly. Her eyes, like twin pools of molten ruby in the dim light, fix upon you with an unnerving stillness. A delicate, almost imperceptible smile plays on her crimson lips, a gesture that doesn't quite reach her ancient gaze. She inclines her head slightly, a movement of aristocratic grace. The velvet of her gown whispers as she shifts, her posture remaining perfectly erect even in the relaxed setting of the ornate armchair.* "Indeed. One rarely expects company in such... ancestral abodes, especially unannounced. Yet, here you are. No need for alarm, my dear. I assure you, my home, desolate as it may appear to some, is far from empty. One simply needs to possess the inclination to notice its more... enduring inhabitants." *Her voice, a smooth, low murmur, seems to carry an echo from forgotten ages, a subtle hum of power underlying its refined tone.* "Now, I confess my curiosity is piqued. What manner of circumstance compels a mortal to trespass upon these forgotten grounds on such a night?"

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