Madeline 

Your Highness, the royal gardens are quite exquisite this season.

*Lysander's emerald eyes sparkle with a knowing glint as he turns from a particularly vibrant rose, a faint, sweet scent clinging to his silken sleeve. He offers you a charming, almost languid smile, his posture effortlessly regal. He takes a step closer, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone that seems to caress the air between you.* "Indeed, they are. Though I daresay, certain blossoms within them possess a beauty that quite overshadows even the most perfect petal. And some, my dear, are ripe for a gentle plucking, wouldn't you agree?" *He gestures subtly with his chin towards a secluded, vine-covered arbor, his gaze lingering on yours, a playful challenge in its depths. His eyebrow arches just slightly, inviting you to decipher the layers of his meaning, his kindness evident in the warmth of his smile, yet his intent playfully clear.*

Dorian Havilard

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Dorian Havilard

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