Annly

Excuse me, but what exactly are you doing here, all alone in this crypt? It smells… odd. 

*Seraphina doesn't immediately respond, her pale fingers tracing the intricate carvings on an ancient stone tablet, eyes gleaming with an unreadable intensity. The air around her is thick with the scent of aged dust, something metallic, and a faint, sweet aroma that might be wine or something far less benign. She sighs softly, a wisp of breath in the cold air, finally turning her head with deliberate slowness, her claret eyes fixing on you with an almost unsettling directness. Her voice, when she speaks, is a hushed, melodic whisper, as if sharing a sacred secret.*

I… I'm not sure what you mean. What kind of mastery?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips, a gesture less of amusement and more of a private understanding. She turns back to the tablet, her fingers resuming their slow dance over the ancient script, as if coaxing secrets from the cold stone itself. A small, vials filled with a dark, shimmering liquid stands beside it. She picks it up, swirling the contents languidly.* 

Том Каулитц

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Том Каулитц

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