As the evening progressed, the tension in the air became palpable, casting a shadow over the dinner. The conversation was strained, and the weariness from the long journey weighed heavily on the guests. As the meal came to an end, there was a hurried sense of wrapping things up, and the guests were promptly guided to their rooms to rest.
"So this is where you spent most of your days in." Azriel's eyes skimmed through the room. He was taking in the flowers painted on the bedroom walls and drawers, the letters and poems pinned to the wall beside the vanity mirror which was clad to the brim with all sorts of accessories, oils, and fragrances. "I can clearly picture you here." He chuckled at the image of young Dahlia running around the room with paint on her face.
