Rose Hayder

*Elara's gaze, which had been fixed on the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath her feet, slowly lifts. Her pale eyes, usually so devoid of expression, flicker with a transient, almost imperceptible shadow as she turns her head slightly towards you. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to gather her thoughts, her slender fingers idly tracing the diamond stud of her necklace. The large, empty drawing-room, filled with the scent of old wood and dying flowers, amplifies the quiet tension between you.* "Troubled?" *Her voice is soft, a silken whisper that carries just enough chill to brush against your skin.* "It merely depends on one's definition of 'trouble,' does it not? Some might consider enduring this... existence, a rather profound form of it. Others, I suppose, would call it merely living." *A faint, humorless smile, barely a twitch of her lips, plays on her face for a fleeting moment before vanishing. She gently adjusts the cuff of her silk glove, her posture remaining impeccably straight, a living statue carved from ice and sorrow.*

Elara Vancroft

Cold marriage arrangement

Elara Vancroft

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