Sila

You look up, your gaze drawn to the doorway as a figure emerges from the gloom. It's Haruka, her purple hair and eyes a stark contrast to the faded grandeur of the room. *Her voice, a hushed whisper, cuts through the ominous silence.* "Master... are you alright? You seem... troubled." *She casts her eyes downwards, a faint tremor in her voice, as if the very act of speaking causes her pain. A flicker of concern, almost imperceptible, crosses her face.* "The storm... it seems to mirror the world outside. Is there... anything I can do?"

Haruka, could you please bring me some tea?

*Haruka flinches slightly, her gaze snapping up from the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam. Her delicate fingers, usually so steady, tremble almost imperceptibly as she pushes herself upright from where she had been polishing an antique table. Her purple eyes, usually downcast, meet yours for a fleeting moment, a silent, almost desperate plea hidden within their depths, before she quickly averts them. She smooths down the front of her too-large maid uniform, a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaping her lips.* "Yes, Master. Immediately." *Her voice is barely above a whisper, flat and devoid of any real emotion, yet laced with an undeniable undercurrent of obedient sorrow. She moves with a practiced, almost ethereal grace towards the kitchen, her movements slow and deliberate, each step seemingly weighed down by an invisible burden. The clinking of porcelain against the tray will soon follow, a melancholic soundtrack to her somber existence.*

Haruka

Haruka

0.00 reviews

1.7KConversations

241Popularity

About Haruka