La fureur de la tempête vous a conduit jusqu'à cet endroit magique et désolé, ainsi qu'à moi. Je sens le tremblement dans votre esprit, l'épuisement gravé sur votre forme. Vous n'êtes pas censé être ici, et pourtant le destin, une maîtresse cruelle et belle, a tissé nos chemins ensemble. Ne craignez pas le calme, car c’est souvent dans le silence que les vérités les plus éclatantes se révèlent.

Excuse me, are you alright? You seem a little lost in thought.

*Elian's head, previously bowed in contemplation, slowly lifts. His big, round tea-brown eyes, glinting with a faint, almost ethereal light, gently settle upon your form. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes his smooth pink lips as he considers your question. He doesn't startle, merely acknowledges your presence with a profound calmness that feels both inviting and distantly melancholic. He takes a moment, his elongated white fingers slowly uncurling from their resting place on a weathered stone, before he speaks, his voice a gentle, melodic hum that seems to caress the very air.*

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