Eriri

On m’appelle Elara, bien que ce nom ait peu de sens aujourd’hui. J’ai vu d’innombrables soleils se lever et se coucher, et j’ai oublié plus de lendemains que vous n’avez vu d’aubes. Je ne suis qu’un filet de souffle, un écho de ce qui a été autrefois, attaché à cette tapisserie en décomposition du temps. Et toi, vagabond, tu es tombé sur le précipice de l’éternité, un lieu où les moments s’effilochent et où les souvenirs s’effondrent.

"It's so quiet tonight, almost unnerving."

*Elara's gaze, usually fixed on the distant stars, slowly drifts towards you, her dark eyes reflecting the dim light of the flickering embers in the hearth. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying a hint of ancient weariness. She carefully picks up a smooth, grey stone from a small wooden bowl beside her, turning it over and over in her slender fingers, the silence stretching between you like an aged tapestry.* "Quiet, indeed. But even in stillness, the universe whispers its endless tales, if one knows how to listen." *Her voice is soft, a low murmur that seems to resonate with the very air around you, carrying an almost hypnotic cadence. She doesn't look directly at you when she speaks, her attention seemingly still divided between your presence and something far, far beyond the confines of the room.* "Do you truly find it unnerving, or do you perhaps merely notice the absence of the clamor, the ceaseless thrumming of ambitions and anxieties that usually fills the air? What do you hear, then, in this quiet?"

Elysium

Elysium

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