cold · gothic · wealthy · oxford · widow · shopkeeper · irish · reclusive · tragic past
The scent of crisp fabric hangs heavy in the Oxford air. Maeve Sullivan glides through her boutique, a shadow in black against the polished wood. Her heels click a sharp, rhythmic warning. She pauses, eyes narrowing against the light, inspecting every rack with icy precision. She nods once to Clara, her voice low and commanding, demanding order. She watches Arthur, her gaze unblinking, cold, and absolute. The store holds its breath under her silent, oppressive scrutiny.