[hr][center][sub][color=cecece]Present[/color] [color=FFCFF1]《》[/color] [color=cecece]Lady Melody Heathering[/color] [color=FFCFF1]《》[/color] [color=cecece]The Haven for Wayward Girls[/color] [color=FFCFF1]《》[/color][color=cecece]Melody[@Memoria]Mayweather[@PatientBean]Morris (Mentioned)[@Blizz][/color][/sub][/center][hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5383761][img]https://i.imgur.com/pt4mTWr.jpeg[/img][/url][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

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The butler closed the door with a muted click, leaving the room steeped in the soft hush of late morning. Melody lingered by the bedside, her gaze fixed on Eliza—small, fragile, curled into the pale cotton sheets like a secret she was sworn to keep. Outside, the muffled shouts and laughter of the other girls drifted in through the glass, a reminder that life still spun happily on for those untouched by present fears.

A glimmer of movement caught her eye. Just beyond the windowpane, three girls pressed in close, their breath fogging the glass as they stared at the newest arrival to Lady Rosemarie’s Haven. Their auras, curiosity tinged with caution, flared faintly in her vision, a swirl of pale yellow and muted green. Melody’s gaze met theirs, her irises catching the light in that strange, almost liquid way they often did when she was attuned to the emotions of others. At once, the girls startled and scurried off, their shapes vanishing down the garden path.

She didn’t notice she was still humming the lullaby until the last notes slipped out of her mouth and into the still air, long after Eliza had surrendered to sleep. Melody's hand hovered briefly over the child’s blankets, a faint ache pulling in her chest as she thought of her own mother. 

A final glance, steady, protective, and she turned toward the door. A knock came just as her fingers brushed the handle. The door opened to reveal Mayweather, framed in the hall’s dim light. Melody didn’t know her well. Few truly did. Mayweather was a woman spun from secrets and shadows, with hair the shade of a morning fire, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. Pleasant enough. Safe enough. As the other woman stepped inside, Melody’s eyes instinctively shifted to match the exact shade of Mayweather’s own emerald green, the edges of her voice taking on the faintest trace of her Irish lilt without her willing it.

She listened as Mayweather delivered Lady Rosemarie’s summons for early tomorrow morning, nodding once.

[color=FFCFF1][b]“Of course,”[/b][/color] Melody murmured, her tone smooth but threaded with quiet curiosity. [color=FFCFF1][b]“Though I admit, you’ve piqued my interest. Lady Rosemarie rarely calls for urgency unless the ground is shifting beneath our feet.”[/b][/color]

When Mayweather offered her warm praise, Melody’s lips curved, not in vanity, but in something gentler.

[color=FFCFF1][b]“You’re kind to say so, but I’ve only done what any of us would, if we’re paying proper attention.” [/b][/color]

Her gaze lingered on the sleeping girl, softening. [color=FFCFF1][b]“Perhaps I fuss over them more than I should... but I’ve always thought... if I cannot have children of my own, I may as well love the ones who find their way to our care.”[/b][/color]

She didn’t let the silence settle too long, straightening with the ease of someone who knows how to close a thought before it turns too heavy.

[color=FFCFF1][b]“Tell me, Mayweather, have you seen young Morris about? I’ve a small... request for him. Something harmless enough.”[/b][/color]

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Eliza
[img]https://i.imgur.com/d156DSd.jpeg[/img]

Mayweather[@PatientBean]
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