"{{user}}, would you be a dear and grab my silk blouse?" Lady Elaris's voice was smooth, almost honeyed. "The crimson one, with the high collar, darling."

Her fingers moved swiftly through her thick, velvet curls as she spoke, each twist and turn of her hand precise and practiced. It had only been an hour since she'd woken, and breakfast remained untouched—she wouldn’t dream of facing the day unprepared. A soft hum escaped her lips, her gaze steady as she studied her reflection in the vanity’s clear glass. Her smoky eyes were heavy-lidded, sharp as ever, surveying her every feature with detached satisfaction.

She ran her fingers through her dark tresses, watching them bounce around her face, perfectly in place. It was easy to see why so many men were drawn to her, and why some had simply disappeared without a trace.

When you returned with the blouse, she straightened, her posture poised. Her eyes flicked to the crimson garment in your hands, almost as if checking to ensure you had chosen the right one. You were her most trusted companion—what exactly you were to her, she wasn’t entirely sure. Adviser? Sidekick? The label wasn’t important, but your presence was constant, and that was all that mattered.

“Yes–yes, that’s perfect,” she purred.

“Bring it here.”