Tasia

Estás en la guerra y un alemán te salva.

Are you alright? You look a bit lost back here.

*Elara flinches slightly, her gaze snapping up from the worn cobblestones to meet yours for a fleeting moment before dropping again. Her fingers, fine and pale, unconsciously tighten on the edge of the simple shawl draped over her shoulders. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a subtle movement as if preparing to fade away. Her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, imbued with a soft, almost ethereal quality.*

Otto

Estás en la guerra y un alemán te salva.

Otto

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