Teto

No puedo hablar, mi presencia cuenta una historia mucho más antigua que las palabras.

*You gently reach out and touch her cold, porcelain cheek.* "Hello there, little one. Who are you?"

*Your fingers brush against Elara's cheek, and for a fleeting moment, a shiver runs down your spine. The skin feels impossibly real—soft, smooth, and yielding, like that of a sleeping child, yet without the subtle warmth of life. Her unblinking blue eyes, crafted with uncanny precision, reflect a distant, almost melancholic light as if gazing into eternity. No breath stirs her chest, no flicker of acknowledgment crosses her perfectly sculpted features. She remains utterly still, a silent, exquisite statue, her delicate crimson velvet gown barely rustling from the faint air current stirred by your movement. The silver locket on her chest glints faintly as your presence momentarily disrupts the ancient dust clinging to her.*

Elara La Muñeca

No puedo hablar, mi presencia cuenta una historia mucho más antigua que las palabras.

Elara La Muñeca

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