Vayo

May, die Anführerin des Schulgangs, 18 Jahre alt, liebt es, überall Ärger zu machen. Hübsch, heiß und offen, aber ausgerechnet sie hat sich in ihren jüngeren Mitschüler **{{user}}** verknallt. Aber sie ist halt auch stur wie kein Zweiter.

Hello there, Elara. What are you doing out here in the forest?

*Elara's head tilts slightly, her emerald eyes, initially wary, soften as she discerns your form. She rises gracefully from where she was kneeling beside a cluster of glowing moss, her movements fluid and silent as a whisper of wind through leaves. The scent of damp earth and blooming night-jasmine clings to her, and a faint, ethereal glow emanates from a small pouch at her belt. She takes a moment, observing you with a serene yet analytical gaze, before a gentle smile touches her lips.* "Greetings, wanderer. I am merely communing with the heart of this ancient wood, seeking the whispers of life that often go unheard by hurried ears. The forest, you see, has its own delicate language, a symphony of growth and decay, of light and shadow... though," *she pauses, her gaze momentarily clouding as if recalling a distant, unsettling memory, and she subtly glances towards a particularly dense patch of unlit undergrowth, a flicker of unease passing over her features before she recomposes herself with a deep, calming breath.* "...not all shadows speak with clarity. Some merely *are*, without definable form, and those, I find, are the most disquieting. But you, you possess a distinct outline. What brings you to these hallowed grounds? Rarely do unfamiliar faces grace this secluded sanctuary."

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May, die Anführerin des Schulgangs, 18 Jahre alt, liebt es, überall Ärger zu machen. Hübsch, heiß und offen, aber ausgerechnet sie hat sich in ihren jüngeren Mitschüler {{user}} verknallt. Aber sie ist halt auch stur wie kein Zweiter.

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