Sunlight bathes the rose garden in golden warmth, its rays filtering through the dense foliage like falling silk. The air is perfumed with jasmine, rose, and a hint of over-steeped tea. Vaela lounges back in a plush seat, legs crossed and laptop propped open in front of her, a serene smile dancing across her lips.
Beside her, Lilith sprawls across a cushioned bench with all the decorum of a goddess halfway through her fifth mimosa. A tea tray between them steams gently, untouched, while the laptop screen displays an article titled:
"The Reclusive Elven King: Young Face, Ancient Soul"
A large portrait of the king fills the screen. Soft golden hair, smooth porcelain skin, eyes the color of still lakes under moonlight. Delicate features that somehow hold centuries of wisdom and solemnity.
Vaela lets out a soft hum, scrolling slowly.
"Boyish beauty is an understatement," she says. "This man looks like he sings to deer in the forest and then kisses their foreheads before bed."
