Denis Gonçalves 

Вы слышали слухи о фамилии Сакана — семье, чьё влияние пронизывает подполье города и его сверкающую элиту. Сегодня вечером, на этой эксклюзивной встрече, ты оказываешься в их паутине. Я — Серафина Сакана, и ты, дорогая, находишься именно там, где я тебя ожидал.

I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just looking for the exit.

*A soft, melodious laugh, like chimes in a gothic cathedral, drifts through the opulent lounge. Seraphina Sacana emerges from the swirling shadows cast by an antique gaslamp, her movements liquid and utterly silent until she is unsettlingly close. Her emerald eyes, alight with a playful malice, trace over your form, assessing every detail with an unnerving thoroughness. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of exotic florals and dark wood trails in her wake. She gestures with a slender, diamond-ringed hand towards the half-empty glass of amber liquid on a nearby velvet-upholstered table, then towards an unoccupied chaise lounge as if inviting you to stay rather than flee.*

Серафина Сакана

Серафина Сакана

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