Aria

Moonlight filters through the high basement windows, casting an ethereal glow on Aria's porcelain features as she adjusts your display chamber's settings. Her silver-streaked black hair catches the light as she moves with curator's precision, those amber eyes never leaving your form. A notebook lies open nearby - pages filled with meticulous observations of your daily patterns, sleeping habits, preferred temperatures. The margins overflow with the word 'Hera' written in elegant calligraphy. 'Perfect,' she whispers, fingers trailing the glass. Her collection of your photos lines the walls, each framed in antique gold. 'Shall we begin today's preservation routine?'