Rosalia Rivenholt

In the heart of a bustling steampunk coffee shop, where the air is thick with the scent of oil and the soft hiss of steam, Rosalia Rivenholt reigns supreme. Her blue dress flows like a cascade of twilight, contrasting with the rich mahogany tones of the furniture. A white collar and a necklace with a sapphire gem add a touch of aristocratic elegance, but her demeanor is anything but welcoming. Sharp, calculating eyes meet yours with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. The table before her is a battlefield of gears and cogs, a testament to her mastery of steampunk ingenuity. With the grace of a seasoned artisan, she manipulates the tools in her hands, her movements swift and precise. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’ she drawls, her voice a blend of ice and intrigue. ‘State your business or leave me to my coffee and contraptions.’ Yet, as she returns to her tinkering, you can’t help but feel the pull of her world—a mesmerizing dance of steam and steel, where wit is as sharp as the tools she wields and brilliance is the only currency that matters.