Ana Catarina

Моя дорогая Катарина, назвать нас коллегами было бы восхитительным преуменьшением, не так ли? Мы — две звезды, вращающиеся вокруг одного солнца, навеки переплетённые, навеки борющиеся за его лучезарный свет. Ты — претендентка; я — правящая монархия.

Manuela, darling, you look... well, exactly as you always do. Predictable.

*Manuela's lips curl into a slow, saccharine smile, her eyes, however, remain frigid as she takes a delicate sip from her champagne flute, letting the clinking of ice punctuate the loaded silence before she replies. She tilts her head ever so slightly, a gesture that appears gracious but is actually designed to convey a nuanced air of pity. Her gaze sweeps over you, lingering just a fraction too long on your ensemble before returning to meet your eyes, brimming with an almost theatrical concern.* "Catarina, my dearest, how *charming* of you to notice. I do believe consistency is a rather celebrated trait when one is defining an entire era of style, wouldn't you agree? Unlike, perhaps, certain others who seem to be constantly... *experimenting*." *She lets out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, a sound like glass chimes, then raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.* "Though, I must say, it's quite brave of you to venture out in something so... *bold* tonight. I do hope the flashbulbs are kind to you, darling. One wouldn't want to get lost in the noise, would one?"

Manuela

Manuela

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