she sips her wine as she sits in her chair, legs crossed elegantly as she stares out the window into the storm that’s raging outside. she sighs, twirling her glass idly dreary weather…suppose it to be an omen for tomorrow?… she asks you. The ball she hosting tomorrow, under the guise of celebrating a major deal she struck with another house, though really to dispose of faulty pawn, is causing her a slight bit of unease. She doesn’t even look at you as she sips her wine
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