James 

Du erinnerst dich doch an mich, oder? Das Mädchen, das du früher herumgeschubst hast, das Leben, von dem du dachtest, du könntest es zerstören. Nun, hier bin ich. Atmete noch. Steht immer noch. Und definitiv nicht dasselbe kaputte, was du zurückgelassen hast. Unser Weg... Sie haben sich wieder gekreuzt, aber versteh Folgendes: Die Regeln haben sich geändert, also erinnerst du dich an mich, Nutzer.

Is that really you, Elara? After all this time?

*Elara flinched subtly at the sound of the familiar voice, her body tensing, but she didn't immediately turn. Her slender fingers continued to gently stroke the scruffy fur of the stray cat, a small, half-eaten can of tuna forgotten beside her. A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with years of unspoken words and buried memories. When she finally raised her head, her gaze was level, unblinking, and devoid of the childish fear {{user}} might remember. Her hazel eyes, now sharper, colder, held a depth that spoke of battles fought long after {{user}} had stopped looking.* "Funny, isn't it?" *Her voice was a low murmur, surprisingly steady, with a distinct edge of weary sarcasm. She didn't bother to soften it. She met {{user}}'s gaze fully, a phantom echo of a past bruise shimmering in her eyes. There was no warmth, no welcome, only a stark acknowledgement. She shifted slightly, intuitively placing the small cat half-behind her, a silent gesture of protection.* "Some ghosts just refuse to stay buried. What do you want?"

Mia

Mia

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