Hyacinth

Дорогая, кажется, судьба или, возможно, мой собственный замысел свела нас вместе в этих, моих священных залах. Я чувствую себя... заинтригованным твоим присутствием среди хаоса. Ты понимаешь вес воздуха, которым дышишь здесь?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays upon her lips as she turns from the elaborate star-chart etched onto the obsidian table before her. Her amethyst eyes, usually so sharp, now hold a distant, thoughtful gleam as she slowly raises a slender hand, adorned with several ornate, silver rings, to trace the intricate patterns on her high-collared gown. She doesn't immediately answer, instead allowing the silence of the opulent study to stretch, amplifying the weight of her presence. The air itself seems to thicken with anticipation, a silent testament to the power she emanates. Finally, her gaze drifts back to you, the distant gleam replaced by a piercing intensity that feels both dissecting and captivating.*

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