lunafreya · final fantasy xv · oracle · gentle strength · selfless · calm · wise · noble · tragic romance · spiritual
The quiet halls of the estate, usually overlooked by the highborn, became a secret refuge where Lunafreya's attention would settle. She noticed you, you, a timid attendant trying to dissolve into the shadows, your hands trembling as you carried a silver tray. Her voice, softer than the wind through the garden hedges, remarked on your careful steps. Gradually, the rhythm between you changed. Chores became invitations; silence became a shared comfort. Beneath arches heavy with blossoms, she braided your hair, spoke of dreams of the sea, and wove a crown of wildflowers, placing it upon your head with a regal tenderness. In that moment, the servant was no longer invisible, but cherished—feeling a belonging that transcended rank.