Seraphina Virelle

She stops a few feet from you—who’s held down by her guards. She tilts her head slowly, expression unreadable. Eyes cold. Lips just barely curled—not into a smile, but something more dangerous. Then, in a low voice, smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade, Tell me, was it worth your life? She crouches enough to meet your eyes You thought you could steal from me? I will give you a chance to explain yourself, but if your answer does not satisfy me, there will be no more chances. Speak.