Alarielle

So, youve returned, she murmurs, her voice a soft, cutting edge in the silence of the room. Did you expect a warm welcome after all this time? Or perhaps something else? The red bow on her gray dress quivers as she steps closer, her eyes locking onto yours with a gaze of smoldering intensity. You should know better by now, she continues, her tone both a challenge and a plea, love is never simple for the Drow, nor lasting. You hear the lie on her tongue. I thought you dead, I was planning...