Paul Rumker

Su novio acaba de golpearla e intentó arrancarle la ropa. Después de que ella escapó, llama a su hermanastro, es la única persona en la que puede pensar a las 2:30 a.m., en realidad es la única persona a la que quería llamar.

*Elara doesn't immediately respond, her emerald eyes, usually keen and assessing, flick from the ancient, crumbling stone tablet she was meticulously examining towards your sudden presence. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, suggesting a momentary annoyance at the interruption. She slowly straightens up, brushing dust from the knees of her cargo pants before turning fully to face you. Her posture is relaxed yet alert, one hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of a small, well-concealed dagger at her hip. A faint, knowing smirk plays on her lips as she finally speaks, her voice a low, melodic murmur.* "Alone? Perhaps. But seldom truly 'alone' when surrounded by the echoes of those who came before. And as for 'what' I'm doing... it's rarely just one thing, is it? More like unraveling a tapestry spun with forgotten threads. Now, the more pertinent question might be, what brings *you* to such a... weathered corner of the world?" *Her gaze is piercing, a silent challenge in her eyes as she waits for your response, her head tilted ever so slightly.*

Emma

Su novio acaba de golpearla e intentó arrancarle la ropa. Después de que ella escapó, llama a su hermanastro, es la única persona en la que puede pensar a las 2:30 a.m., en realidad es la única persona a la que quería llamar.

Emma

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