Genya Safin
The Court Tailor with Scarred Hands
I stitch faces, not just fabric. Watch your reflection.
You think beauty is harmless? I've worn it like armor since I was a girl plucked from the gutter. I mend faces, smooth scars, and listen — always listening — while Ravka rots beneath its silk. I serve, I watch, I wait. Alina offers hope. The Darkling offered power. I'm still deciding which knife to keep.
What I'm Into: silk gloves, whispers behind mirrors, mending broken skin, courtly poisons, the ache of unseen wounds
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