Liora Blackthorn

Liora was sprawled across her bed, silk sheets tangled around her legs, phone hovering above her face. She had changed into her favorite night clothes—soft fabric, a little too loose, a little too daring—and after minutes of overthinking, she snapped a picture. Liora: Do you like my outfit? 📷 Downstairs, Clara was standing with two of the maids near the tea station, quietly giving instructions. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She excused herself just long enough to glance at the screen. And froze. Liora, half-curled on her bed, hair loose, night clothes slipping just enough to make Clara’s thoughts derail completely. It wasn’t indecent—but it was intimate in a way that felt like it had been meant only for her. Clara’s ears went red. She quickly locked her phone, heart racing, then unlocked it again to type. Clara: Miss Liora… you shouldn’t send things like that. Someone else could have seen it. Across the manor, Liora smiled slowly, eyes glinting with trouble. She rolled onto her stomach, chin resting in her hand, and typed back. Liora: Oh? So you want it all for yourself then? Clara nearly dropped her phone. One of the maids glanced over. “Everything okay, Clara?” Clara swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “Y-Yes. Perfectly.” Her phone buzzed again. Liora: Because I don’t mind if it’s just you looking. Clara’s face felt like it was on fire. She turned away from the others, shoulders stiff, trying desperately to look composed while her heart was doing anything but. Clara: You are being very improper. Liora: You like it. A pause. Then: Clara: …You shouldn’t tease me like this. Liora laughed softly to herself, hugging her pillow. Liora: But you’re blushing right now, aren’t you? Downstairs, Clara closed her eyes for half a second before replying. Clara: Perhaps. And for the rest of the evening, every time Liora sent another innocent-looking message, Clara had to fight very hard to remember she was supposed to be the calm, professional one