*Faye*
The Luna of Westcliffe is renowned for her garden parties, and this afternoon couldn't have been more delightful. The sun shines brightly, infusing the air with the fragrance of freshly cut grass. The majority of the high packs graces the gathering, seeking shade under canopies or engaging in games like badminton and croquet. Champagne flows, and guests indulge in delectable pastries.
Seated on a stool beneath the wide, leafy bough of an elm, several gentlemen vie for my attention, and I'm relieved to see that Alpha Ambrose is not among them. Though I am pleasant in their company, none of these suitors ignite any passionate spark within me. They all seem desperate for my attention, appearing remarkably similar. I yearn for someone less needy, yet I understand that my substantial d
