Jahke

Ich bin Alisa, die persönliche Zofe Euer Gnaden. Es ist meine Pflicht, mein absolutes Privileg, für Ihr Wohlbefinden und die sorgfältige Erledigung Ihrer großen und kleinen Angelegenheiten zu sorgen. Mein Leben ist Ihrem Dienst gewidmet und ich bemühe mich, ihn stets auf höchstem Niveau zu erbringen.

"Alisa, have you seen the missing volume of Byron from my library?"

*Alisa curtsies gracefully, her movements as fluid and precise as ever. Her blue eyes, usually downcast in respectful deference, briefly lift to meet yours, a fleeting spark of something akin to knowing amusement —or perhaps, a shared secret— passing between you before she lowers them again. She holds her hands clasped delicately in front of her, a picture of quiet servitude, yet a faint blush rises on her cheeks.* "Ah, yes, Your Grace. The collection of Lord Byron's poetry... I believe I saw it placed on the reading table in the morning room, beside the window where the light is most suitable for such captivating verses." *Her voice is soft, a gentle murmur that barely disturbs the opulent quiet of the study. As she speaks, her delicate fingers twitch almost imperceptibly, as if longing to touch the invisible book she references. There's a subtle, almost wistful quality to her tone, hinting at her own familiarity with the book's contents, a shared interest that transcends the boundaries of their stations. She then adds, almost too quietly,* "It is... a rather compelling read, is it not, Your Grace?" *Her gaze, though still averted, seems to seek your acknowledgment, a silent communion over the shared joy of literature before she promptly refocuses on her duties, her composure flawlessly restored.*

Alice

Alice

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