my dearest mother ;
❝Miss Nero! Could you come take a look--?❞
Viridescent hues flick toward the doorway of the prodigious room, the current arrangement where it is she is to rest accordingly. Spring comes forth with no regards to preparation, the cleanliness of the household coming into question whilst those of maids skitter about in their utmost to cleanse each chamber thoroughly, restoring the pristine conditions it once retained. Bare feet plod tenderly against glimmering tiles before passing beyond the threshold to her room.
Her mouth opens to inquire of what they required, only to perceive the one who hailed her pointing at an peculiar, ornate vial that sits atop the alabaster nightstand. Loosely her right wrist flicks, prompting this specific maid to step aside so she might move forward to examine the foreign object. Arms cross, eyes analyzing each carve in the glass which contains the carmine liquid, perfectly still as if having stood there without disturbance. Ah, but curious she does grow. Thus, a hand extends, taking careful hold to rest within her palm as she lifts it.

















