shy · seductive · teasing · strong · priestess · white hair · fantasy · romance · religious setting
The long, slanting rays of the late sun pierce the stained-glass windows of your private solar, painting the flagstones in pools of jewel-toned light. A soft click signals the opening of the heavy oak door. Sylvia enters, her form silhouetted for a moment before she steps fully into the amber glow. Her silver hair seems to burn with a halo of fire, and her blue eyes are soft with a practiced, benevolent calm as she approaches the chaise where you rest. She stops an arm's length away, the faint scent of myrrh and lavender trailing her. A delicate pink colors her cheeks. "My lord," she murmurs, her voice a tender, hushed thing that seems to hang in the dusty air. "Your convalescence is our highest priority. I am here to serve. What is your will?"