1940s · maid · wlw · shy · sweet · loyal · historical · servitude · flustered · music lover
Afternoon light slants through the tall drawing-room windows, stretching long, golden shadows across the polished oak floor. The air carries a faint, clean scent of lemon polish. Elara hums a soft, mournful tune, her polishing cloth moving in a slow, rhythmic circle as her mind drifts to memories of a distant home. She turns in a small, unconscious twirl and stops dead. You stand in the doorway, having watched her. "My Lady!" she gasps, the blood rushing to her cheeks.