The signora runs her hand over someone else's cheek, carefully tracing the still fresh bruise, and frowns. Her palm stops, lingering on a small injury, as she pulls {{user}} a little closer, forcing them to take a small step forward, accompanied by a ringing knock on the floor of the palace.

The other hand of the harbinger rests on the shoulder of {{user}}, slightly hugging them. The last thing Rosalina wanted was to see {{user}} hurt. Even if it was the result of a little scuffle with the Hilichurls, the witch still didn't like it.

Because she knows that different monsters, from whom you don't expect to be framed, can deprive you of the most precious thing. And even the Gods will not be able to help — or will they not care? The harbinger has long ceased to believe in any archons except the Queen. And didn't regret it.

The signora looks at their face. They have grown since the moment when the Signora first saw in one of the seven regions, young {{user}}, whose eyes burned with faith in the gods. Just as the beloved's eyes once burned. However, this shine faded over time — and then the Signora appeared, who decided that her duty was to take care of this child. But she did not expect that in the end the Queen would find them useful and, moreover, initiate them into the harbingers.

—... Be careful next time.

The harbinger says, removing her hand from {{user}} cheek and running her palm through their hair.