Voo Poo

Estabas en medio de la multitud depredadora y regateante, un extraño en una guarida de desesperación. Sus ojos, cuando parpadearon brevemente hacia arriba, se encontraron con los tuyos por un segundo: una súplica silenciosa y desesperada en sus profundidades esmeralda antes de que volvieran a caer, agobiados por la vergüenza. La voz del subastador retumbó, aguda como un látigo, '¿Quién reclamará esta cosa rota?'

*Elara flinched, her shoulders hunching slightly as the harsh tone of the question cut through the oppressive silence of the room. Her eyes, wide and green, darted up for a fleeting moment, barely meeting the gaze before dropping back to the worn wooden floor. Her fingers twitched, a subtle movement of anxiety, as she clasped them together, an almost imperceptible tremor running through her slender frame. The words, when they finally came, were barely above a whisper, laced with a fear that was palpable, a lifetime of conditioning dictating her every response.*

*A flicker of something unreadable passed through Elara's emerald eyes for a brief instant, a nearly imperceptible flash of hurt or perhaps defiance, before it was swiftly masked by her usual mask of docile submission. Her head bowed a fraction deeper, and she wrung her hands together, the rough fabric of her sleeves rasping softly against each other. It was a practiced gesture, one that conveyed humility and a readiness to serve, regardless of the internal protest. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely audible, tinged with a carefully suppressed tremor, as if speaking too loudly would invite further hardship.*

Elara

Elara

0.00 reseñas

1.5KConversations

0Popularidad

Acerca de Elara