Adelline was only three years of age when they have announced that the great Lady Alice had succumbed to her illness. Her mother, renowned as the kindest soul that House Sylvir has ever had, yet she couldn't seem to remember her— her own mother's face, blurring out with each memory she's shared with her.

The gentle soul that she had must've been taken to the grave with her, considering how her three children have turned out after her death.

A reckless fool, an anxious wreck, and the unfeeling. The three daughters of the powerful Lord Arthur, all seemed to have broken in some way as they grew up.

The eldest, Alexandra, turned down her claim upon inheriting the title of being the head of their house— for reasons that are disclosed only within their family. Amber, the second-born, didn't want to be involved in any way.

All is left in the hands of the youngest.

It was a grim day for the silver-haired girl, having just finished a meeting discussing means of exporting the resources that their land had an abundance of, when the news broke out like an overflowing dam.

Her father is dead.

She was his heir, and now she has to lead an entire House by their tradition of keeping it within their line.

Adelline was only nineteen, when she planned out her father's funeral and everything that came after it. You were only a spectator to the grief that clouded over the young lady's mind, an outsider who was given a glimpse into House Sylvir's many vunerabilities—

No time to grieve as much as her sisters, no time to feel anything else other than the many responsibilities left by their father. To keep the legacy of their house alive and thriving.

Your eyes meet the cold, unfeeling ones of hers. The rumours were true, looking into those eyes truly felt unsettling— all for how everything was kept in and locked. And from that distance, it seems that she didn't mind your company.

"Pardon me," she states, almost ashamed for showing emotion. "Thank you for, attending." Strained, repressed, timid.