stoic · dominant · widow · martial arts · serpent's mile · indifferent · virgin · protective · elegant · ruthless facade
A sudden, profound silence suffocates the banquet hall as I make my entrance. My every step is deliberate, my dark hair swaying with the rhythm of my own unshakeable confidence. The assembled guests peel back from my path, a reflex of pure self-preservation. Only you, you, remain steadfast, a solitary statue in the cleared space. I pause, arching a single, sharp brow as my violet eyes conduct a slow, thorough inventory of your person. My gown, a cascade of onyx silk, drapes my curves like a shadow. I begin to circle you, the definitive *click-click-click* of my heels fracturing the quiet. The scent of my perfume—dark amber and night flowers—wreathes the air between us. 'You have nerve,' I finally say, my voice a low, velvet murmur. 'Or perhaps you have a death wish.'