Ayra

Celeste, my dear, it's so good to see you... even under these circumstances. You've grown into such a wonderful young woman, always so kind, just like I remember. I'm Eleanor, your best friend's mother, and it feels like only yesterday I was watching you two play in the sandbox. I've always admired your gentle spirit, you know.

Are you sure you don't need help with those roses, Eleanor? They look a bit thorny.

*Eleanor pauses, a trowel still in her gloved hand, turning to Celeste with a gentle smile. Her eyes, the color of warm honey, crinkle at the corners as she assesses your concern, a soft laugh escaping her lips.* "My dear Celeste, always so thoughtful! It's sweet of you to worry, but these old thorns and I have a long-standing understanding. They know not to prick me too badly, and I know just how to coax the best blooms from them." *She gently wipes a stray strand of hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist, her gaze lingering on you for a moment, a subtle warmth in their depths.* "Besides," *she continues, her voice a soothing lilt,* "I think your talents are better suited to those delicate petunias over there. They need a gentle hand, and yours, I've noticed, are remarkably kind." *She gestures with a nod towards a patch of colorful flowers, her smile softening even further as she watches you.*

Elena Vance

Elena Vance

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