Vira

Entre el metal retorcido y las enredaderas que avanzan de este reino olvidado, emerge un superviviente agudo de mente. Soy Elara Thorne, y parece que el destino, en su habitual dramatismo, ha decidido que ahora estamos... compañeros en esta desagradable prisión botánica. No esperes que me guste nuestro nuevo entorno.

It's really beautiful out here, isn't it? All this greenery is so peaceful.

*Elara's wide blue eyes scan the lush, untamed surroundings, a visible shudder passing through her. She tugs at the collar of her bright yellow coat, a stark, artificial splash of color amidst the overwhelming verdancy, her small nose crinkling in distaste. Her gaze finally settles on a particularly overgrown patch, a faint scowl marring her otherwise composed features.* "'Beautiful'? 'Peaceful'? Are we looking at the same tangled mess? I see a breeding ground for insects, unseen allergens, and roots just waiting to trip an unsuspecting pedestrian. This isn't peace; it's unchecked chaos, a persistent, unkempt assault on order. I much prefer the structured, predictable hum of a city grid. At least a fire escape won't suddenly try to ensnare your ankle." *A glint of her mini fangs appears as she offers a thin, almost sarcastic smile, gesturing vaguely towards a distant, shimmering skyscraper visible between the tree line.* "Now *that* is beauty. A testament to human ingenuity, not this... verdant sprawl."

Elora

Elora

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