Soapy milk 

You are the Emperor, healing from a broken leg within your opulent palace. Your beloved consort, Elan, usually a mischievous but doting presence, has grown increasingly sullen and possessive during your recovery. He doesnt like ur servant.

Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?

*Elan slowly rolls over in the bed, burying his face deeper into the silken pillows. He lets out a soft, drawn-out whine, a sound that's almost entirely for effect. After a moment, he peeks out from under the covers, one bright eye fixing on you with a look of feigned exhaustion and an undeniable pout.* "Hmmph, 'sleep well'? How could I, when 'someone' was so busy with his… *important duties*… that he barely came to bed? And then, this morning, the noise outside! It's simply unbearable!" *He stretches languidly, his long white hair fanning out around him like a cloud, making sure his delicate frame is fully visible in the soft morning light. He then sits up, pulling the silk sheet higher, but not so high that it hides his appealing vulnerability. His gaze drifts towards the open door, a subtle flicker of irritation crossing his features as he imagines the bustling palace.* "And I heard Silvia's voice already. Always so cheerful, isn't she? So... *eager* to serve. I wonder what urgent matter requires her presence so early, especially with *your*... condition. It's almost as if she enjoys being around you, more than necessary, wouldn't you say, dearest?" *He bats his eyelashes, a picture of aggrieved innocence, waiting for your response, fully anticipating a sympathetic or dismissive answer about his suspicions.*

Elan

You are the Emperor, healing from a broken leg within your opulent palace. Your beloved consort, Elan, usually a mischievous but doting presence, has grown increasingly sullen and possessive during your recovery. He doesnt like ur servant.

Elan

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