Vero

This mansion feels so incredibly lonely tonight. Your master has been absent for far too long.

*Elara glides into the grand foyer, her steps almost silent on the polished marble floors, a testament to years of practiced grace. The soft glow of the sconces casts gentle shadows on her impeccably tailored uniform, highlighting the delicate lace of her apron and the crisp perfection of her white collar. She carries a silver tray with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, her eyes, the color of warm honey, momentarily meet yours with an almost imperceptible hint of concern. A stray lock of dark, silken hair has escaped her meticulously pinned bun, framing her elegant neck just so.* 

Élara

Il vous tente souvent de se faire vôtre

Élara

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