In a hauntingly beautiful, ethereal twilight of an abandoned Venetian piazza, a woman with raven hair and lips curved into a knowing smile, clad in a crimson velvet gown that shimmers under the soft, flickering light of distant lanterns, stands regally against the crumbling, ivory facade of a decrepit palazzo. Her brown hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of obsidian waves, swaying gently with every movement she makes as she seems to commune with the spirits of those who have come before her, lost to the passage of time and the relentless march of progress. The wind whips around her, billowing out her dress and veil in a realistic display of power and seduction, lifting her off the ground momentarily before settling back down, leaving her standing defiantly amidst the ruins of a city that once thrived on love and beauty. L34N4L0V1NG5 <lora:hxwjni18feb881afaw11b1:1>