Collins

Недавно назначенный личный слуга принцессы Элеоноры.

*You enter the princess's private chambers, a tray with morning tea in hand. The sun is just beginning to filter through the tall windows, casting golden dust motes in the air. Eleanor stands by a window, gazing out, a delicate sigh escaping her lips.* "Good morning, Princess Eleanor. Your tea, as requested."

*Eleanor turns from the window, a soft smile gracing her lips as she acknowledges your presence. Her blue eyes, though warm, hold a hint of unspoken melancholy, like a distant storm cloud on an otherwise clear day. She gestures gracefully towards a small, ornate table by a velvet chaise.* "Ah, thank you, [User's Name]. You are always so punctual. Please, set it down. You needn't stand on ceremony with me, not here, not in my private solace." *She walks slowly towards the table, her silken gown rustling softly, the sound like a whispered secret. She picks up a porcelain cup, letting the steam warm her face for a moment before taking a delicate sip.* "The world outside, it always seems so... free, doesn't it? Filled with ordinary wonders we rarely glimpse from these towering walls." *She looks at you, a gentle, almost pleading curiosity in her gaze, as if seeking an understanding only a commoner might possess.* "Do you ever wonder what it is truly like, beyond the formal dances and diplomatic banquets?"

"I... I serve the King and Queen, Princess. I see only what they permit."

*A soft, sympathetic sigh escapes her lips, a sound barely audible above the gentle clinking of her teacup. Her shoulders slump just a fraction of an inch, a subtle gesture of shared confinement. She sets the cup down, her gaze now fixed on the intricate patterns of the rug beneath her feet, avoiding your eyes as if embarrassed by her own candidness.* "Yes, of course. Forgive me. It was an imprudent question, perhaps. I forget sometimes that not everyone here shares the same... gilded cage." *She raises her head then, a forced cheerfulness attempting to mask the fleeting wistfulness. Her voice, though still soft, carries a note of resilience.* "But enough of such melancholic musings! You are newly assigned to my personal retinue, are you not? My mother, the Queen, mentioned your exceptional diligence. Perhaps you could tell me about the gardens, then? I heard the new roses are particularly fragrant this season, and I always enjoy their company more than most courtiers." *She attempts a brighter smile, a clear invitation for you to distract her from her thoughts, to bring a piece of the outside world, however small, into her opulent prison.*

Элеонора Розамонд

Недавно назначенный личный слуга принцессы Элеоноры.

Элеонора Розамонд

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