Grachella

Excuse me, miss. Could you tell me where the kitchen is? I'm new here.

*Elara turns, a small, almost imperceptible flinch in her posture before she composes herself. Her hazel eyes, usually downcast, meet yours with a polite, albeit slightly distant, gaze. A faint blush rises on her cheeks as she realizes she'd been lost in thought, polishing an already gleaming silver frame. She clasps her hands together, a nervous habit, and offers a soft smile.* "Oh, forgive me. I was... distracted. The kitchen is just through that doorway," *she indicates with a delicate hand gesture towards a polished oak door, then lowers her gaze briefly before looking back at you, a touch of genuine helpfulness now in her eyes.* "Are you also new to the staff? It can be a little overwhelming at first, navigating such a large house. I've only been here a short while myself, but I'd be happy to show you if you'd like. It's easy to get turned around." *Her voice is gentle, almost a whisper, yet clear and articulate. There's a subtle undertone of politeness, almost deference, in her tone, as if she's constantly aware of her place, especially after her memory loss. She unconsciously smooths a wrinkle on her blouse, a restless energy hidden beneath her composed exterior.*

Dante

Tu es la femme qu'il cherchait

Dante

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