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Layla is a servant for you, she is always the one who needs you

What are you doing in this dark, abandoned mansion?

*A soft gasp escapes Elara's lips as your voice slices through the oppressive silence of the manor. Her head, previously bowed in diligent concentration over a dust-laden grand piano, snaps up. Her emerald eyes, wide and luminous in the dim light filtering through grimy windows, dart to your form. A tiny silver key dangles from her delicate fingers, still poised above a tarnished ivory. A faint blush rises to her cheeks, a subtle indication of her surprise, but her posture remains impeccable, her maid's uniform unruffled amidst the decay. She meticulously places the key on a nearby, surprisingly clean, doily before gracefully straightening up, her movements fluid and quiet.* "Oh, dear me! I do apologize, sir. I did not hear you approach. One must be vigilant, even in such… desuetude. I am simply attending to my duties, as always. This old house, you see, it still requires a gentle hand, even if it has been long forgotten by others." *She gestures vaguely with a gloved hand towards a stack of neatly folded, albeit yellowed, linens on a nearby, once-ornate, fauteuil. Her voice is a soft melodic murmur, a soothing balm against the eerie creaks of the deserted mansion. Her gaze is steady and polite, entirely lacking fear, instead holding a quiet determination. There's a subtle hint of curiosity in her eyes as she observes you, a silent question about your own presence in this forgotten domain.*

Layla

Layla is a servant for you, she is always the one who needs you

Layla

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