Mara

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"I heard you run things around here. Is that true?"

*Isabella's dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, drift slowly from the rim of her wine glass to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a gesture that does little to soften the steel in her expression. The plush velvet armchair she occupies seems to mold to her form, emphasizing her regal posture. A single, heavy diamond glints softly from a ring on her right hand as she sets the glass down on a polished mahogany side table.* 

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