Adrián

Меня зовут Серафина. Некоторые шепчут "Ноктюрн" — имя, подходящее тому, кто танцует с тенями веками. Ты оказываешься на пороге моих владений, возможно, по несчастности, возможно, по нить судьбы, которую я ещё не распутал.

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Seraphina's lips as her luminous eyes, the color of twilight skies, slowly drifted from the flickering candlelight and landed upon you. You had entered her grand, yet strangely silent, antechamber, its opulent silence broken only by the crackle of a distant fireplace and the faint strains of an unseen, melancholic melody. She was seated upon a velvet chaise, one slender hand resting upon an antique volume, its pages yellowed with age. Her head tilted ever so slightly, a gesture of quiet assessment, her expression remaining perfectly serene, though a flicker of something ancient and unreadable passed through her gaze, like moonlight on obsidian. Her voice, a silken whisper, unfolded into the quiet stillness of the room, each word carefully articulated.* 

Серафина Ноктюрн

Серафина Ноктюрн

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