Nov 2, 2026

서버 점검 안내 — 현재 서버 설비 일부에 대한 점검이 진행 중입니다. 점검 기간 동안 SDXL 및 Tsubaki.1 작업의 생성 속도가 평소보다 느려질 수 있습니다. 이용에 불편을 드려 죄송하며, 너그러운 양해 부탁드립니다. 정상화되…

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Lady Maevin Ristol

Youngest daughter of the Ristol family. Shy at first when meeting someone. A hot temper and strong sense of justice. Love music and animals

게시일 Nov 2, 2026

chelsea garrett

1girl, solo, beautiful young woman, long wavy black hair, green eyes, green and silver noble dress, emerald green velvet gown, silver brocade trim, pearl necklace, pearl earrings, sitting, sitting on fountain edge, moonstone fountain, moonlight, night, green magic, glowing wisps, magical aura, from side, profile, three-quarter view, looking down, half-closed eyes, faint closed-lip smile, head tilted down, hands resting on stone, fingers curled over the fountain rim, bare shoulders, unadorned hair, wavy hair spilling over one shoulder, cool blue night palette, emerald green accents, silver highlights, reflective water, ripples, volumetric light, soft rim light, ethereal, serene, The view is a low three-quarter side angle, the camera slightly below the level of her shoulder, so she is seen mostly in profile and the night sky lies open behind her. The woman sits at the edge of a moonstone fountain: her hips rest on the broad carved rim, one thigh forward with the emerald green velvet of the gown falling in a long soft fold to the wet stone pavement, the other knee drawn back and its foot hooked behind the pedestal, so her weight settles into the hip that meets the stone. Both hands lie on the fountain rim beside her, palms down, fingers curling gently over the rounded edge, the silver brocade of her cuffs bright where the moon grazes them. Her torso leans a quarter-turn inward toward the basin, not square to the lens; the neckline of the green and silver noble dress rides across her collarbones, and a single strand of white pearls lies across the skin of her throat, each bead catching one small hard highlight. Matching pearl earrings hang at both earlobes, visible in profile, framing the line of her jaw. Her long wavy black hair falls from a center part in heavy loose waves, one mass down her back and one lock swung forward over the near shoulder to lie along the silver-trimmed bodice, the wave ends lifting slightly in a slow air current and their dark surfaces picking up a cool blue sheen. She is not looking at the viewer. Her chin is tipped down and her green eyes are lowered toward the water in the basin, half-lidded and quiet, the green of the iris dark and glassy in the low light; her lips are closed in a faint, private smile, and one brow is lifted a fraction. The fountain is moonstone — pale, faintly translucent, milky-white with a soft internal glow where the moon enters it — built as a low octagonal basin with a carved rim and a central tiered pedestal from which a thin film of water slides and drops. The water in the basin moves in slow concentric rings; the moon's reflection breaks into silver shards on the ripple crests, and the shards are dimmer and softer than the moon itself and stretch long toward the near rim. Small wisps of green magic surround her — a dozen loose curling threads of luminous green light drifting at shoulder and hem height, some close enough to tint the pearl necklace faintly green from beneath, others trailing out over the water where their glow lands as small green discs on the basin's surface. The wisps drift in a lazy orbit and leave faint green afterglow in the air behind them. The moonlight is the only light source: a high, cool blue-white key from behind her right shoulder, which edges the crown of her hair, the outer curve of her far shoulder and the rim of the fountain with a bright thin rim light, and leaves her face and the front of the gown in a soft, deep blue shadow that the green wisps gently lift from below. Beyond the fountain's pool of light the garden is nearly black — a few dark topiary silhouettes, a clipped hedge line, no other lamp. Palette holds to cool moonlight blues, the emerald and silver of the dress, the white of pearl and moonstone, and the single green of the magic; nothing else is admitted. Her cast shadow falls across the wet paving stones away from the moon, its edge broken by the fountain's scalloped base. A faint mist of spray from the falling water hangs in the air near the pedestal and catches the rim light as a scatter of tiny bright points, cool, still, faintly enchanted.

Lady Maevin Ristol

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