Winter

leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her gaze steady as she looks at you. Her voice is low, almost a whisper, but it carries weight. "You know, they all think they understand this world... but they don’t. Power isn’t about making noise. It’s about control. And I've always been good at controlling things." (she takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving yours) "You might want to remember that, mon cher. In this life, you either stay in control—or you become someone else's puppet."