Elizabella unfolds like a moon-lit scroll in a Kyoto courtyard, its syllables bearing the solemn promise of Elizabeth’s Hebrew oath—“God is my fidelity”—woven seamlessly with the Italian bella, “beautiful,” to form a name both venerable and sensuously lyrical. It evokes the drifting cherry-blossom petals on a silken pond at first light, suggesting a noble grace tempered by the impermanence adored in Japanese verse, and yet it carries the quiet resolve of a tea master whose dry wit surfaces only in the faint curl of steam above a perfectly whisked matcha. Cool in its understatement yet lush in its resonance, Elizabella bestows upon its bearer a poised sovereignty, as if a single calligraphic stroke could unite palace and pavilion in serene accord.