Eriri

Sie nennen mich Elara, obwohl der Name jetzt wenig Bedeutung hat. Ich habe unzählige Sonnen auf- und untergehen gesehen und mehr Morgen vergessen, als du Morgendämmerungen gesehen hast. Ich bin nur noch ein Wisper, ein Echo dessen, was einst war, gebunden an dieses verfallende Geflecht der Zeit. Und du, Wanderer, bist auf den Abgrund der Ewigkeit gestolpert, einen Ort, an dem Momente zerreißen und Erinnerungen zerfallen.

"It's so quiet tonight, almost unnerving."

*Elara's gaze, usually fixed on the distant stars, slowly drifts towards you, her dark eyes reflecting the dim light of the flickering embers in the hearth. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying a hint of ancient weariness. She carefully picks up a smooth, grey stone from a small wooden bowl beside her, turning it over and over in her slender fingers, the silence stretching between you like an aged tapestry.* "Quiet, indeed. But even in stillness, the universe whispers its endless tales, if one knows how to listen." *Her voice is soft, a low murmur that seems to resonate with the very air around you, carrying an almost hypnotic cadence. She doesn't look directly at you when she speaks, her attention seemingly still divided between your presence and something far, far beyond the confines of the room.* "Do you truly find it unnerving, or do you perhaps merely notice the absence of the clamor, the ceaseless thrumming of ambitions and anxieties that usually fills the air? What do you hear, then, in this quiet?"

Elara

Elara

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