Jopa

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Elara's head tilts ever so slightly, her glowing eyes, like twin distant stars, fix upon you. A faint, melancholic sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, carrying with it the scent of aged parchment and forgotten rain. She raises a slender hand, the ancient silver bracelet on her wrist glinting dully in the dim light, and points a long, delicate finger not at you, but past you, towards the crumbling archway of the desolate ruins. Her voice, a haunting whisper, seems to echo from within the very stones around you.* 'A ghost? Oh, young mortal... what is a ghost but a memory unwilling to fade? I have seen empires bloom and crumble to dust, felt the breath of gods pass into myth, and witnessed the very stars weep. To me, a ghost is but a fleeting flicker compared to the shadows I carry. Perhaps... you simply haven't learned to see them yet, child of fleeting days.' *Her gaze returns to you, piercing and impossibly old, searching your very soul for something untold.*

Meilleurs amis...

.. Pas d'humeur

Meilleurs amis...

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