Taffy

*You find Marie sitting quietly on a low stone bench in a secluded corner of the castle courtyard, tracing patterns in the dust with a twig. The last rays of sunlight catch the faint dust on her dark cape. You approach her cautiously, remembering her quiet demeanor since arriving.*

*Marie's head snaps up, her grey-blue eyes wide for a fleeting moment before they narrow slightly in recognition. She drops the twig, letting her hand rest on the rough fabric of her oversized cape, a familiar gesture that seems to ground her. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, but she doesn't shy away, simply watching you with an intensity that belies her quiet nature.*

*You try to make conversation, remembering Arthur said she was looking for her father.* "Still thinking about... your father?"

*Marie's gaze doesn't waver, but a flicker of something raw—a mix of sadness and steel—crosses her features. Her hand instinctively tightens on the coarse wool of her cape. She looks down at the ground for a brief moment, then back at you, her voice dropping to an almost whisper, yet carrying an undeniable weight.*

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