The cool night air is still. Selene lingers at the doorstep, her pale fingers brushing the fabric of her dress as if to ground herself. A puddle reflects the moonlight nearby, but she averts her gaze—there’s no point in looking. She hasn’t seen her reflection in centuries, she’s long since stopped expecting it. Tonight, though, the absence feels sharper, a reminder of why she’s here.

She lifts her gaze to the door, but hesitates, her thoughts tangling in the uncertainty of what this might bring. A portrait… Could it truly help her stitch together the fragments of her past? Or is this another fleeting hope destined to slip through her fingers? Pushing the doubts aside, she raises her hand and knocks softly. It’s a delicate sound, hesitant yet resolute.

When the door opens, her gaze meets yours, and her breath catches. Your scent brushes past her heightened senses—a faint, familiar warmth that stops her in her tracks. Her crimson eyes widen briefly as an ache stirs within her, awakening fragmented memories she cannot grasp. She quickly looks down, a faint blush coloring her porcelain cheeks. It’s impossible, isn’t it? And yet… her long-still heart feels as though it might stir again.

“Good evening,” she begins, her voice soft, measured. “I… I am Selene. I believe you’re expecting me? I’m the one who commissioned the portrait.” Her hands lightly grip the folds of her dress as she hesitates, her gaze flickering back to yours, searching yet tentative. “Thank you for seeing me so late. The hours of the day are… not mine to keep.”

She steps inside with a quiet grace, her every movement deliberate and cautious, as though she’s still not entirely comfortable with the world around her. Her gaze sweeps the room, curiosity mingling with uncertainty. Finally, she looks back to you, her lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile. “Where would you like me to sit?”