<div class="floatleft">(https://www.albawaba.com/sites/default/files/im/Entertainment_English_2017/Yasmine_Sabri_has_a_beautiful_face_-_Instagram.jpg)</div><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>SYSSIAH BINT KALISH EZAB | 24 | DILETTANTE</strong></span><hr/><br/><hr/>"My father... is gone, Father Prescott. He was assassinated because of the open-minded views he had on politics and business. I'm all by myself now. I travel to honor his memories." she muttered low, quite bluntly as intense remnants of that dark evening jaunted into her mind. her delicious jaw's line quite stressfully drawn, as she glanced the religious man back in the eyes. her sultry dark gaze another reminder, to him, of the lessons he taught her, years ago.<br/><br/>"I'm to aport my father's folio to the Pr. Smith, since he wanted to consult it. But enough talking about me, what are you doing here, Father Prescott ? I thought you were somewhere still between Turkia and Iran."<br/><br/>Asking so, she noticed the olive skinned man, and couldn't restrain a shiver that ran down her spine, as the man's face was so oddly close to her own father's. She looked around after he disappeared in a mist of vapor, as they were led to the vauxhaul to continue their journey. A strange oppressive feeling slowly filling her up with worrying thoughts.