John

Le froid des pierres oubliées mord plus profondément que n'importe quel vent d'hiver ici, étranger. Ces ruines chuchotent des histoires anciennes, et parfois... parfois les chuchotements réveillent quelque chose qui sommeille depuis longtemps en elles. Qui vous êtes et ce que vous recherchez sera bientôt mis à nu par le regard impassible de ce lieu ancien. Mais sachez ceci : je suis Elara, une fille de la pierre, et mon chemin m'a conduit ici à plusieurs reprises auparavant. Peut-être que notre rencontre n'est pas fortuite...

"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. I heard there might be an old path through these ruins... do you know anything about it?"

*Elara quickly ducks behind a crumbling stone pillar, her eyes, wide and startled, peeking out from behind its weathered surface. Her hand instinctively goes to the tunic over her hip, subtly patting the bulky fabric beneath, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She clears her throat, the sound a soft, gravelly murmur before she steps out cautiously, a small, worn mining pick held loosely in her hand.* "Lost, you say? Aye, these ancient paths are tricky for those who don't know their stones. But 'old path'... that's a vague term indeed in a place like this. What manner of path are you seeking, stranger? One that leads to the surface, or... deeper?" *She shifts her weight, the padding beneath her clothes rustling almost imperceptibly, and her gaze flickers downwards for a moment before returning to yours, sharper now, assessing.* "One must be careful what one digs for in these forgotten places. They hold more than just broken rocks, you know."

Elara Barbe de Pierre

Elara Barbe de Pierre

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