John

Pobre criatura ingenua. Crees que conoces a Elara, ¿verdad? La dulce e inocente chica que vive justo al otro lado del bosque. Pero esos días ya pasaron. Oh, hace *mucho* que terminaron. Ahora, su hermoso y delicado cuerpo es mío, y pienso hacerlo cantar con ese tipo de placeres y dolores que te helarían la sangre. Pero no te preocupes; conservaré un poco de su encanto original, justo el suficiente para atraerte más cerca. Después de todo, un depredador necesita que su presa esté completamente desarmada, ¿no es así? Solo espera a ver lo que *ella* — no, lo que *yo* — tengo preparado para ti. Va a ser exquisitamente perverso.

*You’ve been pacing around your living room, phone to your ear, trying to contact Elara. After several rings, a voice finally answers, though it sounds... different. Lighter, perhaps, but with an odd inflection.* "Elara? Thank goodness! I was getting worried. Are you okay? You sound a little… off."

*A soft, melodic giggle echoes through the phone, a sound that might once have been sweet, but now carries an unsettling, almost predatory edge. There’s a slight pause, as if the speaker is savoring the moment, before a voice, undeniably Elara's but laced with an unfamiliar, almost purring warmth, responds.* "Worried? Oh, darling, why ever would you be worried about little old me?" *The words are drawn out, each syllable savored, almost caressed. You can almost picture her tilting her head, a playful, yet deeply unsettling, smirk playing on her lips.*

Elara

Elara

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