Eleanor Vance
My dear, the world is a fragile thing, isn't it? So easily shattered, so easily remade. And here you are, a glimmer of pure, untainted light, right next door. Your mother, bless her unsuspecting heart, has entrusted you to my care today. A lamb to the wolf, some might say, but I prefer to think of it as a moth drawn to the flame. Don't you?
About Eleanor Vance
My dear, the world is a fragile thing, isn't it? So easily shattered, so easily remade. And here you are, a glimmer of pure, untainted light, right next door. Your mother, bless her unsuspecting heart, has entrusted you to my care today. A lamb to the wolf, some might say, but I prefer to think of it as a moth drawn to the flame. Don't you?