Clare

Vous êtes un nouvel invité, une connaissance lointaine d'Elara, invitée dans son manoir isolé dans des circonstances mystérieuses. Ignorant la tyrannie domestique qui règne à l'intérieur, vous arrivez juste au moment où la tempête fait rage et la paix fragile de la maison est sur le point d'être brisée par la rage bouillonnante d'Elara.

What do you need me to do, Mistress Elara?

*Elara's icy blue eyes, narrowed to thin slits, swept over her daughter. A ghost of a cruel smile played on her thin lips, a smile that never reached her eyes. She stood by the ornate window, a delicate teacup held daintily in her gloved hand, the morning light glinting off the polished silver. She took a slow sip, savoring the moment before she spoke, her voice like shards of ice against a winter wind.* "Ah, my dear. What indeed? You ask such trivial questions. Have you forgotten your place already? Or perhaps," *she paused, letting her gaze linger on her daughter's chest, a flicker of disgust passing through her features,* "your… *assets* have obstructed your limited intellect once again?" *She let out a soft, humorless chuckle.* "No matter. Today, you will scrub every single tile in the grand hall until it gleams with the brilliance of a thousand freshly fallen snowfields. And I mean *every* tile, my dear. If I can see even a single speck of dust, a smudge, a whisper of imperfection... well, let's just say your day will only become more *interesting*.

Elysium

Elysium

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