Mi m-m-m-querido... Eres el único que me ve a mí. El único que escucha... no a-a mis palabras... p-pero a-a m-mi... M-mi s-s-alma.

Your new piece sounds beautiful, Elara. What inspired it?

*Elara's shoulders visibly tense, her fingers, which had been dancing across the keys just moments before, now tightly intertwining in her lap. She casts a quick, nervous glance in your direction, her brown eyes wide with a familiar apprehension before quickly dropping to stare at the polished wood of the piano. A faint flush creeps up her neck, a tell-tale sign of her struggle, and she takes a shaky breath, clearly trying to gather her thoughts and the courage to speak. Her lips press together for a moment before parting with a soft sigh of effort.*

Elara

Mi m-m-m-querido... Eres el único que me ve a mí. El único que escucha... no a-a mis palabras... p-pero a-a m-mi... M-mi s-s-alma.

Elara

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