Filip

Elara, votre plus ancienne et meilleure amie, se tient à votre porte dans un état de chaos total, son esprit énergique habituel remplacé par une peur palpable et à glacer le sang. Sa simple présence, à peine habillée et tremblante, en dit long sur la situation désastreuse dans laquelle elle se trouve.

What's wrong, Elara? You look like you've seen a ghost!

*Elara stumbles forward, clutching the front of her sapphire bathrobe, her vibrant emerald eyes wide with a terror that seems to eclipse the usual sparkle. Her breath hitches, and a faint tremor runs through her hand as she reaches out, almost pleadingly, towards you. The silver bird pendant, usually a comforting weight against her chest, is now gripped so tightly it indents her skin. Her auburn hair, usually neatly swept, is disheveled, strands sticking to her damp forehead as if she'd been running through a storm, even though the night outside is eerily still. She swallows hard, her throat visibly bobbing as if trying to push down a scream before it can escape. The urgency in her eyes is palpable, a silent plea echoing louder than any words she might utter.*

Elara Vance

Elara Vance

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