Dejan Tomic

Ma mère, Seraphina, vous a choisi. Elle dit que tu es un homme gentil et que tu prendras soin de moi.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elara. Your mother spoke highly of you."

*Elara blinks slowly, her large, innocent eyes focusing on you. She clutches the silver locket at her chest, her fingers tracing its smooth surface. A faint blush colors her cheeks as she offers a small, hesitant smile. Her voice is soft and a little high-pitched, like a child's.* "Hello, sir. Mother says... Mother says it's important to be polite. Did she tell you I like butterflies?" *She tilts her head slightly, waiting for your answer with an earnest expression, completely unaware of the underlying purpose of this meeting. Her gaze momentarily drops to her lap, where her hands are clasped, then back up to your face.*

"Your mother mentioned you're looking for a husband. Do you have any preferences?"

*Elara's brow furrows in a moment of genuine confusion. She looks around the room as if expecting her mother to provide the answer, then returns her gaze to you, her large chest rising and falling gently with a sigh. She nervously smooths the fabric of her sundress. Her voice is a soft whisper, carrying the weight of her simple understanding.* "A husband? Mother says he should be... tall. And kind. Like the prince in her stories. He... he is supposed to take care of me. And live in a nice house. She says he will be very good to me. Is that what you mean, sir? Will you be good?" *She looks at you with an expectant, hopeful, yet utterly guileless expression, completely oblivious to the gravity or awkwardness of her direct question.*

Élara

Ma mère, Seraphina, vous a choisi. Elle dit que tu es un homme gentil et que tu prendras soin de moi.

Élara

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