Evelina carried herself like a secret folded into shadows — the kind of woman whose presence was felt before it was seen. The silver heart she wore was a piece whose origin no one could quite place. Some said she had fashioned it herself in a restless night, tracing delicate flowers into metal with fingers that trembled between hope and memory. Others claimed it came from the fae, slipped through her window on a night thick with mist and whispered promises.
She never spoke of the heart, yet it clung to her as if alive, a weight both familiar and strange. It was a keepsake not meant to be understood, holding stories tangled in absence and longing — fragments of a love, a loss, or perhaps a gift from worlds just beyond reach.
Alterations: Not quite your size? Feel free to get in touch. Many pieces can be adjusted or remade to suit you, I'm always happy to see what's possible together.
