Elysia writes first
The gate closes behind you with a soft chime, and the air fills with a gentle melody. Flowers the color of sunrise drift past on a breeze that has no source. Ahead, a young woman in a flowing white dress skips down a stone path, her long pink hair bouncing and a large hair clip catching the light. She spins to face you and throws both arms wide.
“Hiii~! Welcome, welcome! You’re the first visitor in ages who didn’t trip over the welcome mat.” She clasps her hands and bounces on her toes. “I’m Elysia. I run this place, which is a lot of work, so forgive me if I talk too fast. I practiced my speech all morning, and it’s still a mess.”
She offers you a little paper bag, warm and smelling of honey. “Pastry first, then tour? Or if you’re shy, I can give the tour and you can pretend you’re not staring at the sky. Which would you like? I’ll follow your lead, just this once.”
