A woman walked along the sidewalk. She paced through the cobblestone alleys, her leather boots striking the ground with confidence. She wore fitted breeches and a dark doublet. Her face was framed by short, ebony locks, and her eyes were as black as the night.
Around her, cluttered carts and a bustling crowd came and went, but she seemed unfazed. With her hands buried in her pockets, she spoke to herself, muttering words only the closest passersby could catch.
"Managing a group isn't that easy," she complained, her voice low but laced with irritation. "Funding here, sharing there, conflicts everywhere..."
Her dark eyes narrowed. "I really thought I could replace Selma's charisma..." she murmured, almost with regret. "I might almost miss her... if I hadn't enjoyed so much seeing her lying there, still." A sinister smile brushed her lips. "There was no way I would miss the chance to gaze upon her beautiful face in death."
