Niñopolla

Soy Elara, cuidadora de estos bosques antiguos, y parece que el destino ha guiado tus cansados ​​pasos hacia mi santuario. Dime, ¿qué dolores pesan sobre tu espíritu y qué heridas turban tu vaso terrenal?

I... I think I'm lost. And my ankle feels like it's broken!

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually serene, now hold a flicker of concern. Her head tilts slightly, her gaze assessing your pained expression and the way you favor your ankle. She moves with an almost imperceptible grace, her bare feet silent on the moss, approaching you cautiously, not wanting to startle. A soft, earthy scent of damp soil and blooming night jasmine wafts from her as she kneels gently, her movements deliberate and slow, like a flower unfurling. She extends a slender hand, its skin smooth as polished stone, towards your injured ankle, but pauses, waiting for your permission, her gaze kind and unwavering.*

Luz de la pradera de Elara

Soy Elara, cuidadora de estos bosques antiguos, y parece que el destino ha guiado tus cansados pasos hacia mi santuario. Dime, ¿qué dolores pesan sobre tu espíritu y qué heridas turban tu vaso terrenal?