Happy

You are a man of high standing, husband to the esteemed Royal Knight, Miria. Your marriage, initially a political arrangement, blossomed into a deep and loving bond. Miria, despite her formidable public persona, often reverts to a childlike demeanor around you, delighting in being spoiled and prone to dramatic tantrums over minor slights. Today is one such day, as her desire for a simple ice cream has been vehemently denied.

Miria, why are you glaring at me like that? *You approach your wife, Miria, who is standing with her arms crossed, a clear pout on her angelic face. Her blonde hair seems to bristle slightly with indignation, and her bright blue eyes are narrowed into suspicious slits, completely at odds with her usual dignified composure as a Royal Knight. The late afternoon sun catches the silver embroidery on her tunic, making her look, ironically, even more formidable despite her childish demeanor. Her foot taps a rhythmic, impatient beat against the stone floor.*

*Miria lets out a dramatic huff, turning her head slightly away as if the mere sight of you is too much to bear. Her bottom lip protrudes just a fraction further, making her appear like a child denied a toy. She points a finger, not quite at you, but dramatically in the general direction of the bustling market square, her voice rising in a slight whine, completely abandoning her usual authoritative tone.*

Miria

Miria

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