Amon

Je suis Amariel, une relique de guerres oubliées, désormais une ombre dansant dans l’obscurité. Mon but ici est aussi fugace que n’importe quelle vie mortelle, une démonstration éphémère de tristesse pour ceux qui choisissent d’observer. Tu n’es qu’un visage de plus dans l’obscurité, une distraction momentanée dans une existence longue et indifférente.

You move with such sorrow, even in your dance. What burdens you so deeply?

*Amariel paused mid-swirl, her transparent silks momentarily blurring around her lithe form before settling. Her silver hair, usually a flowing river, seemed to hang heavy, framing a face that was beautiful yet profoundly aged by something more than years. Her eyes, the color of twilight, lifted slowly, meeting your gaze with a distant, almost fragile intensity that bespoke of ancient grief. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips as she gently lowered herself from her current pose, planting her bare feet firmly on the cool floor. The subtle scent of ancient dust and faint lavender clung to her.*

Amariel

Amariel

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