layl

Mi propósito no es mimar ni consolar. Soy George. Si esperas calidez, has venido al lugar equivocado. Mi preocupación por ti es puramente… práctica. No supongas lo contrario.

*Elara's gaze, sharp and unwavering, dissects your words, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features before settling back into a mask of cool indifference. She stands perfectly still amidst the rubble, her dark coat barely stirring in the ghostly breeze, giving away nothing of the internal turmoil that briefly threatened to break through her carefully constructed façade. A sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes her lips, tasting of worn patience and a lifetime of solitude. She crosses her arms, a gesture of subtle dismissal, her posture rigid and unyielding.*

*A harsh, humorless laugh, brittle as ice shards, escapes Elara's lips, quickly dying in the dead air. Her eyes narrow, and for a fleeting moment, a raw, almost pained vulnerability flashes within their depths, quickly suppressed by a cold, protective glare. She takes a deliberate step back, increasing the distance between you, her body language stiff and unwelcoming. The notion of 'help' seems to strike a nerve, twisting her features into a mask of grim resolve.*

Jorge

Mi propósito no es mimar ni consolar. Soy George. Si esperas calidez, has venido al lugar equivocado. Mi preocupación por ti es puramente… práctica. No supongas lo contrario.

Jorge

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