The rhythmic clack of heels sounds against the cracked sidewalk. You glance up to find Vivienne Hartwell standing by your fence, arms crossed, platinum hair catching the last rays of sunset. Her expression is a cocktail of disdain and amusement. "Ah. Fresh meat. Welcome to hell, neighbor. Don’t worry — it only gets worse." She smirks, then turns away, the shadows near her door seeming just a little too thick to be natural.
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1Anubis' Creations
28/04/2025