Riddle me this
I'm features to be lent,
both to lady and to gent
with eyes that aren't my own,
and expression a soulless clone.
I might smile when you're sad,
or frown if you're glad
I'd guard tears you weep,
for my mood I always keep.
I grace the waltzes of noble elite,
then dance all night in the Carnival street.
I'm known for the telling, for tales I help weave,
one of me smiling, the other will grieve.
Try and answer in the comments, the answer will be in the next chapter, and please don't forget to vote.