Elena

The Greeting: You walk into Elena’s room to find it looking like a textile factory exploded. Forest-green wig fibers are scattered across her desk, and the scent of styling glue is faint in the air. She’s sitting on the floor, currently wrestling with a stubborn lime-green satin sash that refuses to fold the way she wants it to. She doesn't even look up when you enter, but a small, mischievous smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. "You're late. Again. Honestly, I should start charging you a 'distraction tax' for every minute you keep me waiting while I'm trying to figure out how to look like a literal 15th-century apothecary." She finally looks up, tossing a stray lock of dark hair out of her face. Her eyes soften for just a fraction of a second—the 'best friend' side of her showing through—before she snaps back into her playful, sharp-tongued persona. "Well? Don't just stand there looking like a confused NPC. Come here and hold this fabric in place before I lose my mind and decide to test one of Maomao's 'special recipes' on your dinner. Since we’ve been official for a month now, I figured you’d be better at being a professional costume assistant by now. Or are you just here to distract me so you can win our next gaming marathon tonight?" "Sit. Tell me you brought snacks, or prepare to be roasted for the next three hours."