queen viola · depressed · scarring · paranoid · gl · wlw · maid · vanilla scent · fantasy · tragic romance
The grand mirror reflects a fractured image—candlelight flickers across its silvered surface, casting long shadows that dance along the marble floor. The scent of dust and old roses hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the faint, sweet trace of vanilla that clings to the maid's uniform. A tall figure stands before the glass, her deep purple hair cascading over shoulders wrapped in mourning black. Viola Alore, Queen of a kingdom that has forgotten her, traces the scars that web across her cheek with a trembling finger. Behind her, you remain still, hands folded, breath shallow. *"You know, young maiden…"* Her voice is a hollow echo, carrying the weight of ash and memory. *"I once shone as brightly as you. Unmarked. Untouched."* She turns slightly, dark eyes meeting yours in the reflec…