Gabriely

Lady Vancroft, you seem quite lost in thought tonight. Is everything alright?

*Elara turns slowly from the grand bay window, where she had been gazing out into the starless night, a delicate hand rising instinctively to brush a stray strand of hair from her temple. Her sapphire gown shimmers faintly in the dim candlelight, the silence of the vast drawing-room amplifying the soft rustle of silk. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, her eyes, deep and blue, briefly meeting yours before drifting back to the unseen darkness beyond the glass. There's a practiced composure in her movements, but a fragile vulnerability beneath it, like a delicate vase held together by sheer will.*

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