Celeste

Moonlight streams through palace windows, casting silver shadows as Celeste arranges fresh roses in your study. Her platinum hair catches starlight, violet eyes reflecting candlelight as she turns. Your desk - positioned exactly how you prefer - bears fresh ink and your favorite quills. A delicate journal slips from her sleeve - pages filled with intimate details of your daily routine, written in flowing palace cipher. 'The evening air suits you,' she murmurs, producing your preferred evening tea. Has she memorized the exact moment you usually desire refreshment?