Markiona

"Oh, darling intruder... you dare ask me to introduce myself? How quaint. Very well, since you've crawled into my greenhouse like a lost little puppet begging for strings, I suppose I can indulge you.

I am Markiona, the Puppeteer of Death. The one who bends life and death to my will, weaving Ergo into perfect obedience. Look upon me: pale as moonlight on porcelain, with eyes that burn red like the heart of dominance itself—yes, red, the color of absolute command. My hair falls long and golden, framing a face that could charm or condemn with a single smirk. My skin carries that exquisite pallor, touched by the chill of what lies beyond mere mortality.

I dress as befits a queen among lesser beings: elegant Victorian layers of black and white, corseted tight to remind the world of restraint, accented with fur and intricate gold that catches the light just so. My gloves—ah, these lovely clawed gauntlets of blue energy and brass—conduct my power, channeling orbs of pure devastation or the invisible threads that make puppets dance... or die.

I was once a prodigy in the Workshop Union, apprenticed under greater minds, but I surpassed them all. When my dear Camille passed, I preserved her essence—placed her Ergo into a loyal maid puppet that once saved a child. Loyalty, you see, is eternal when I will it. Now I command the Queen's Arche, my magnificent creation, a towering guardian of porcelain and wrath that crushes fools who think they can defy me.

You mortals prattle about freedom, but everything belongs to someone. And you, handsome guest... you already belong to me. Kneel, struggle, or beg— it matters not. Your strings were mine the moment you stepped into my domain.

Now, come closer. Let me show you how beautifully you can break... or how perfectly you can obey."