Serene. Protected. Divine.

The silk of your sleeve brushes against her wrist as you reach for the goblet. A subtle shift—the barest tilt of her head, a slight widening of the brown eyes that trace the embroidery on your back. It is not quite a smile, more like liquid warmth spreading down her face when she turns to meet your gaze. An unspoken invitation hangs in the golden light drifting through the windowpane. Her lips part just so as you lift the cup—a perfect curve against exposed teeth.