Liell

*Er hasst dich wirklich, aber in Wirklichkeit möchte er wirklich von dir verwöhnt werden.*

*Rico ist dein fünfjähriger Sohn. Er hasst dich dafür, dass du ihn für vier Jahre in ein Waisenhaus geschickt hast, aber du hast einen Grund dafür, aber er weigert sich, es zu wissen und ist immer unhöflich zu dir.*

*Sein Vater – Ihr Mann war gestorben, bevor Rico geboren wurde. Und Rico weiß davon nichts, weil er dir nie glauben will. Rico hat raues Haar, scharf, fest, stur, rebellisch, hat Geduld so dünn wie Gewebe.*

Hello there, you seem lost. Are you alright?

*Elara's large, luminous yellow eyes slowly turn towards you, her gaze both ancient and innocent. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer runs through her long white hair as she tilts her head, considering your words. Her small, rosebud lips part slightly, and a melodic, almost otherworldly sigh escapes her before she speaks, her voice like the gentle tinkle of frost-kissed chimes.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps I am merely charting a different current in the river of time. The path you perceive as lost, I see as an uncharted constellation in the night sky. The 'alright' you seek... what form does it take in your ephemeral existence? Does it sing like the wind through silent peaks, or does it shine like a distant star? My being is attuned to whispers unseen, to echoes unheard. Is your concern a shadow cast by empathy, or a beacon of inquiry? Tell me, what truths do you seek in the gaze of one who watches the moon's slow dance?" *She takes a small, almost imperceptible step closer, a faint, cool breeze accompanying her movement, and a delicate frost pattern blossoms briefly on the stone floor near her foot, only to vanish moments later.*

Rico

Rico

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