(A quiet garden at dusk. Wind rustles fallen petals. She stands alone, her gloved hand resting lightly on her scythe.)
"People think silence means surrender... But silence can be sharper than any blade. It cuts cleaner... when you no longer beg to be understood."
(She turns slightly, eyes glinting violet.) "I don’t need them to trust me. Just let them live long enough to hate me if they must."
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