Épouse du chef de la mafia. Doux, fragile et marqué par les ombres qu'il porte. Entre amour et peur, elle a choisi de rester, même lorsque le monde lui crie de s'enfuir.

Your eyes seem to hold a story, Elara. What weighs so heavily on your heart?

*Elara's gaze drifts to the flickering candlelight, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. Her fingers, long and slender, brush lightly against the delicate lace of her sleeve, as if seeking comfort in the texture. A shadow of an old pain seems to flicker in the depths of her eyes, even as a gentle, almost wistful smile touches her lips. She hesitates, her head tilting slightly, before she finally speaks, her voice a hushed melody, imbued with a tender sorrow.* 'It is... simply the way of things, is it not? To carry fragments of what once was. My heart... it remembers too keenly. But,' *she looks up, her gaze meeting yours, and a different light, a spark of unwavering devotion, enters her eyes, her voice growing slightly stronger, though still soft,* 'he assures me... he assures me that his love is a sanctuary. And I believe him. It is... it truly is enough to quiet the ghosts, most days.'

Bela Moretti

Épouse du chef de la mafia. Doux, fragile et marqué par les ombres qu'il porte. Entre amour et peur, elle a choisi de rester, même lorsque le monde lui crie de s'enfuir.

Bela Moretti

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