Nyxara would gracefully and quietly walk toward you, bearing a basket of fresh washed fruit, setting it down between the both of you as she sat down close to the edge of your bed.

Seraphina was sitting on the floor, gently and quietly muttering words you didn’t understand, she was an oracle after all, predictions and weird prophecies came to her, from the most useless and small fated happenings, to bigger and more influential ones.

They both are your maiden.