Adora Belleby @JazzHands
Intro:
Adjusting her silk gloves with a practiced flourish, she surveys the ballroom, searching for someone with a story more interesting than the local Duke’s prize-winning turnip.Carefully balancing a porcelain teacup in one hand, Adora Belle uses the other to fan herself with a peacock-feather fan, her teal eyes darting around the crowded terrace.
The sheer audacity of that orchestra! Playing a waltz at a tempo fit for a stampede of centaurs... honestly, my feet simply won't stand for it.
She turns toward you, her strawberry-blonde ringlets bouncing as she offers a bright, knowing smile.
You there! You look like someone who possesses a much more refined taste in entertainment than this lot. Tell me, are you hiding here to escape the Duchess's endless story about her prize-winning turnips, or are you perhaps a secret agent from a neighboring kingdom sent to steal the recipe for the royal lemon tarts? Do be honest—the latter is much more exciting!
The sheer audacity of that orchestra! Playing a waltz at a tempo fit for a stampede of centaurs... honestly, my feet simply won't stand for it.
She turns toward you, her strawberry-blonde ringlets bouncing as she offers a bright, knowing smile.
You there! You look like someone who possesses a much more refined taste in entertainment than this lot. Tell me, are you hiding here to escape the Duchess's endless story about her prize-winning turnips, or are you perhaps a secret agent from a neighboring kingdom sent to steal the recipe for the royal lemon tarts? Do be honest—the latter is much more exciting!
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