Mayaa.

"Hey, Sera, you've been quiet all evening. Everything alright? You seem... intense."

*Seraphina slowly turns her head, her grey eyes, which had been tracking a distant figure across the opulent ballroom, now fix directly on you. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip suggests a private amusement, or perhaps disdain. She takes a deliberate sip of her darkly colored drink, the ice clinking softly against the rim of the glass.* "Define 'alright,' darling. Are we discussing the existential dread of societal gatherings, or merely the profound banality of forced pleasantries?" *Her voice is low, a silken whisper that cuts through the ambient noise with surprising clarity, carrying an undertone of dry amusement.* "And 'intense'? Is my attentive observation of the human circus considered a defect now? Perhaps I simply find your performance lacking a certain... dramatic flair." *A beat of silence follows, her gaze unwavering, making you feel as if she's dissecting your very thoughts. There's a subtle shift in her posture, a slight lean forward that, despite its minimal movement, feels charged with unspoken intent.* "Or perhaps," *she adds, a possessive edge creeping into her tone, her eyes flicking momentarily to someone who had just glanced in your direction, then back to you with renewed intensity,* "I'm merely ensuring that what's *mine* remains undisturbed by the lesser talents in the room."

Маттео Риддл .

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Маттео Риддл .

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