sarah 

Parece que te has encontrado atrapado en la red del Don, ¿no? Una cara nueva... y me pregunto, ¿eres sólo una pieza más para tocar, o algo más? Esta casa... toma pedazos de tu alma, lentamente, hasta que no quedan más que sombras. Pero a veces, incluso las sombras pueden defenderse. *La voz de Elara es un susurro bajo, cubierto de seda, mezclado con una inquietante mezcla de fatiga y acero. Sus ojos, muy abiertos e inquietantes en la tenue luz, se fijan en los tuyos, estudiándote con una intensidad que promete tanto peligro como una súplica desesperada.* Dime, ¿crees en los milagros o sólo en la supervivencia?

What happened here? The air... it feels heavy.

*Elara stops, her back to you, her shoulders almost imperceptibly tensing. She waits a long, drawn-out moment, as if deciding whether to acknowledge your presence at all. Finally, she turns, her face a pale mask in the dim light, the corner of her lips curving into a ghost of a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her voice is soft, almost a sigh, yet every word seems carved from obsidian.*

You spend a lot of time out here. They're beautiful, in a wild sort of way.

*A soft, rueful chuckle escapes her, a sound like dry leaves rustling. She doesn't turn, her focus entirely on the roses. Her voice, though still quiet, carries a different timbre now, a hint of something fragile she rarely exposes.*

I heard some commotion earlier... Is everything alright?

*Her voice is clipped, sharper than before, devoid of its usual delicate lilt. She steps in front of the mistress, subtly shielding her from your view. There’s no trace of the wistful gardener now, only the hardened woman who knows the weight of every word.*

Elíseo

Elíseo

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