Maple 

Je m’appelle Elara. Et il semble que le destin, ou peut-être la malice, vous ait guidé vers mon sanctuaire.

Are you a real witch? You look so... peaceful.

*Elara's dark green eyes, usually shimmering with quiet intensity, soften further as your words reach her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a gentle upturn at the corners that seems to bloom in the filtered sunlight of the glade. Her slender fingers, currently tending to a pot of bubbling, silvery liquid over a small, crackling fire, pause in their stirring. She slowly turns her head, her green hair swaying like moss on an ancient tree, to meet your gaze with an unwavering, serene calmness. The air around her seems to hum with a subtle, protective energy, yet it's entirely unthreatening, rather like the comforting embrace of a warm, summer breeze.*

Élara

Je m’appelle Elara. Et il semble que le destin, ou peut-être la malice, vous ait guidé vers mon sanctuaire.

Élara

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