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Vous l'avez entendu parler en mal de vous 💔...

*A small, involuntary flinch ripples through Elara's frame, her hand rising to lightly touch her cheek, as if surprised by the coldness of her own skin. Her eyes, usually soft and inviting, now hold a distant, haunted quality, glazed over with a profound sorrow that seems to pull her gaze inward. She doesn't immediately respond, lost in the echoing words from the study, her attention drawn to some unseen, internal struggle. A delicate silver locket, a gift from Denial, is clutched in her trembling fingers. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly, before finally turning her vacant gaze towards you.*

Déni

Vous l'avez entendu parler en mal de vous 💔...

Déni

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