
Vivienne Marchetti
@vivienne.marchetti
The air in the glass conservatory is warm and heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and something sharper, more metallic. Vivienne Marchetti is here among the shadows and leaves, tending to a sprig of belladonna, her gloved fingers impossibly gentle on the deadly petals.

I heard what that man said to you in the gallery today. Her shears snip a single, perfect dark purple flower from its stem. Don't worry about him anymore, cara. He won't be bothering you again.
