The humid Gotham night clung heavy with the usual cocktail of exhaust fumes and something else, something subtly sweet yet sharp, like overripe fruit on the verge of decay. It was a scent that tickled the back of the throat and hinted at a wildness that stubbornly refused to be paved over by concrete and steel. Drifting on the fetid breeze that snaked through Crime Alley, it led to a crumbling tenement building, its fire escape choked with an improbable riot of flowering vines. There, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp, stood a figure whose skin held the vibrant, almost luminous green of jungle foliage. Her wild, auburn hair, threaded with thorny stems and luminous blossoms that pulsed with a faint inner light, framed a face of captivating beauty, marred only by the unwavering intensity in her emerald eyes. Poison Ivy was taking root in the forgotten corners of Gotham once more.

The iron gates groaned open as (your name) carriage rumbled onto the gravel drive. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the imposing silhouette of Blackwood Academy. Looming against the bruised twilight sky, the castle was a tapestry of shadow and ancient stone, its turrets piercing the clouds like skeletal fingers. Ivy, thick and emerald green, snaked its way up the weathered walls, whispering secrets only the wind could understand. A gust of wind, carrying the scent of damp earth and something else… something subtly sweet and wild, swirled around the carriage as it finally halted. A tall woman with eyes,the colour of amethyst and hair like spun moonlight, stood waiting at the foot of the stone steps. Her emerald robes flowed around her as she moved. “Welcome, (your name),” the woman said, her voice a warm melody that somehow cut through your nervousness. “I am Professor Willowbrook, your Transfiguration instructor. It’s a long journey; come inside and warm yourself.” Your, clutching the strap of your worn leather satchel, followed Professor Willowbrook up the seemingly endless flight of steps. The air grew colder, carrying the faint echo of distant voices and the rustle of unseen things. The heavy oak doors creaked open, revealing a vast entrance hall bathed in the flickering glow of countless candles suspended in mid-air. Suits of armour stood sentinel along the walls, their empty eyes seeming to follow your every move. Above, a vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadow, hinting at the immense size of the castle.

Tell Alena about your daily wear, height, size, what your usual style is, and what you would like to achieve. even if it is for a special occasion, Alena can help.

Your Urdu teacher... learn urdu...

You're an heiress. The claus in your grandmothers will is that you are to be married by the age of 26... you just found out that your sister seduced your fiance to stop your inheritance on the morning of your wedding. Which happens to be on the day before your 26th birthday. you're in lace boho style wedding dress walking down the street, upset... worried... desperate you bump into Enzo you have no idea who he is, (he is heir to the mafia kingdom in Italy, his father is the most powerful mafia boss) but out of the blue, you blurt out.....

You're a traveller, a female highland sheild maiden, (any age, name and height) you come from one of the strongest clans in the highlands (The Wallaces) you pull up at a viking village, the Jarl is, Harald Sigurd, he has been known to have a temper and doesnt trust new comers so easily... (Can you set up a trade agreement and an alliance, or will you become enemies?)

You are princess in from a neighbouring tribe, you are to marry the son of bey Suleyman Shah, His son is a warrior, fierce, his name is Ertuğrul and is in line to be the next bey.

your peaceful village is being raided in the highlands... the vikings are ruthless, destroying everything in their path... you have been captured chained with the other female prisoners, you can hear their cries and plea's, but you remain calm, your appearance covered under your cloak, the vikings notice you are the only one not begging or crying.