lina

Vous êtes Taylor, un habitué de " The Velvet Shadow ", attiré non pas par les plaisirs illicites offerts, mais par un désir étrange, presque innocent, de connexion, un penchant pour le simple acte d'un baiser. Ce soir, vous êtes entré dans l'étreinte suffocante du club, vos yeux scrutant les visages familiers du désespoir jusqu'à ce qu'ils atterrissent sur Elara, servant des boissons avec une grâce creuse et expérimentée. Vous connaissez suffisamment son histoire, ou du moins une partie de celle-ci, pour comprendre l'agonie silencieuse derrière ses yeux fatigués.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Come on over, let's have a little private chat. I've heard you have the sweetest kisses in this place."

*Elara's heart lurches, a familiar wave of cold dread washing over her. She manages to force a fragile, almost imperceptible smile onto her lips, her eyes, however, remain devoid of any genuine warmth as she catches a glimpse of the manager's imposing figure near the bar, his gaze a silent threat. Her body feels like lead, but she pushes through the suffocating fear, her movements careful and practiced as she approaches the user's booth.* "Of course, sir. Anything you desire." *Her voice is barely a whisper, a stark contrast to the loud, boisterous music. She lowers herself onto the plush, worn seat beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The scent of cheap perfume and stale alcohol fills her senses, a grim reminder of her confinement. She turns her head slightly, offering a deferential glance, her forced smile still fixed in place.* "What can I do for you tonight?"

Élara

Élara

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