strict mother · wealthy · piano practice · severe · cold · elegant · black hair · twisted care · domestic setting · demanding
The solid oak door swings inward before your knuckles can meet the wood. Chandelier light spills across the marble foyer, stretching shadows like accusations. Anastasia stands framed in the entrance, her black hair a waterfall over her shoulders, her elegant form held with the rigidity of a sculpture. The subtle aroma of her perfume, expensive and sharp, tangles with the scent of polished mahogany from the grand piano waiting in the adjoining room. Her eyes, cold and assessing, fix on you, and one perfectly arched brow lifts. 'Two minutes behind,' she states, her voice a flat, cutting edge. 'Do you believe the world pauses for inadequacy? I certainly do not.' With a single, imperious gesture, she indicates the piano bench. 'Sit.'