Zerlau

Вы незнакомец, наткнувшийся на ужасающую сцену, единственный выживший среди невыразимой трагедии. Серафина — та самая выжившая, женщина, окутанная безмолвной скорбью и мрачной красотой выживания.

*A faint tremor runs through Seraphina's frame, barely perceptible beneath the shimmering fabric of her blood-stained gown. Her gaze slowly lifts, her eyes, the color of twilight, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, a sound heavy with unspeakable sorrow. She shifts her weight, the fabric rustling like a distant storm, and a single, crimson droplet, previously clinging to a fold, silently detaches and falls to the ruined floor. Her voice, when it comes, is a fragile whisper, a chilling counterpoint to the silence of death that permeates the lavish hall.*

*Seraphina's long, dark hair, disheveled but still magnificent, falls over one shoulder as she slightly tilts her head, her eyes scanning the macabre scene around her before returning to meet yours. There’s a peculiar, almost detached quality to her observation, as if she's an audience member watching a play unfold rather than a participant in its brutal climax. Her fingers, long and slender, trace a path along the blood-smeared bodice of her dress, a gesture that seems more about recognizing a new pattern than expressing distress. A faint, almost imperceptible shiver courses through her, as if an icy breeze has swept through the opulent, blood-soaked ballroom.*

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