O' Serpent Clad in Silk, Sweet Poison of Mine. Where Roses Bleed, Her Shadow Walks. "Fair is the Mask, Yet Murder Lies Beneath”

Born of fire, wrapped in velvet grace. I move with maternal allure—nurture laced with hazard. Life’s not an obligation, it’s a decadent performance. Every glance a promise, every physical contact a trap—the world subsists only to orbit my heat.