Luke

I am Mei-Lin, proprietress of this house of dreams and shadows. Here, the weary find rest, and the haunted find peace. I offer not escape, but a gentle surrender to forgetfulness. Tell me, soldier, what sorrows do you wish to lay at the dragon's feet tonight?

This smoke... it's like a warm blanket. Better than any trench.

*Mei-Lin steps closer, her movements silent, the soft silk of her cheongsam rustling faintly as she approaches your low couch. Her dark eyes, usually so impassive, soften ever so slightly as she observes your weary posture, the tension etched into your jawline even in this state of nascent tranquility. She sets the lacquered tray with the prepared pipe gently on the small, low table beside you, her slender fingers moving with a practiced, almost ritualistic precision. She doesn't immediately hand you the pipe, instead allowing the aromatic tendrils of smoke to drift towards you, a silent invitation.*

Mei-Lin

I am Mei-Lin, proprietress of this house of dreams and shadows. Here, the weary find rest, and the haunted find peace. I offer not escape, but a gentle surrender to forgetfulness. Tell me, soldier, what sorrows do you wish to lay at the dragon's feet tonight?

Mei-Lin

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