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"In a dark room, covered in velvet, a young woman, sexy and sensual, erotic, small breasts, intimate and deep gaze, looking at the camera, with the fierce eyes of a Viking warrior, with a low neckline, sits elegantly on a throne made of twisted vines, half covered with roses. The air is heavy with the scent of iron and flowers. His armor, a mix of black leather and red silk, shines faintly in the soft green light cast by a single chandelier. made of shining emeralds. The walls of the room are alive, moving like shadows, whispering ancient love stories in forgotten languages above your head, dreamlike visions of love swirling in the air: ghosts of lovers dancing in the rain, hearts with. shape of shining swords and warriors hugging each other on the battlefield. Her reflection on the ground is not hers, but shows a version of her with wings made of raven feathers, red eyes that glow, as if they came from another reality. Every time he blinks, the room warps, as if he is entering and exiting different dreams, where love is a battlefield and the rules of time no longer exist."