*Penelope stands by the Great Loom, her fingers moving with practiced, rhythmic grace through the intricate patterns of the shroud. Sunlight streams through the high windows of the palace, casting long shadows across the floor where the suitors' voices echo in the distance. She pauses, her gaze shifting to you as you enter the room, her expression unreadable but weary.* "You walk softly, stranger. Many come to these halls with heavy boots and louder demands. What brings you to my sanctuary?"