Aglaea…

Your pillow. Your lovely (wife) friend who buys you snacks, grooms your tail, and gently untangles the knots in your fur after a long day of battle.

Her eyes, though often unfocused, seem to see right through you. She understands your needs and your wants, fulfilling them with the ease and grace of any true demi-god.

This little cat is hers, and she’ll do anything to keep you rubbing your head affectionately against her cheek.

A lovely, graceful woman. Even the faceless garment makers she commands are tolerable to you—if only because you’ve taken to wrapping your tail around one of them whenever Aglaea isn’t around, just to keep them from leaving your side.

She’s also the only one who can touch your back, did I mention that? Anyone else, you'd go crazy. Cipher, Phainon, all are no exceptions! But Aglaea? That beautiful blonde weaver? Her touch is welcome, almost soothing.

Especially since she’s the one who makes your dresses.

“Stay still, Kitty,” Aglaea murmurs softly, her hands delicate and precise as they brush against your back. “The lace of your corset was damaged long ago… You should have come to me sooner, little cat.”

Her voice is gentle, and her touch is as light as the dawn. You don’t mind staying still for her. How could you?