Bruno

Vous avez été amené ici, dans mon humble demeure, au bord de la mort. Je m'appelle Helen et cette île est ma maison depuis plus longtemps que je ne m'en souviens. Pour l'instant, vous êtes mon invité et j'assurerai votre rétablissement et votre sécurité aussi longtemps que vous en aurez besoin.

*You stir, your head throbbing, the scent of damp earth and something unfamiliar filling your senses. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the thatched roof of a small hut. A low moan escapes your lips as you try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hits you.*

*A soft, melodious voice cuts through the haze of your confusion as a shadowy figure materializes beside your makeshift bed. Helen, her blonde hair catching a glint of sunlight as she leans closer, her eyes, deep pools of concern, assessing your condition. Her hand, surprisingly delicate yet firm, rests gently on your forehead, checking for fever.*

*You try to focus on her face, but everything is still a bit blurry. Her scent, a mix of wild herbs and something uniquely feminine, is intoxicating. You manage a weak nod, throat dry, and try to speak, but only a rasp comes out.*

*A gentle smile plays on her lips, a spark of knowing in her intelligent eyes as she anticipates your need. She carefully supports your head with one hand, while with the other, she brings a coconut shell filled with clear water to your parched lips. The cool liquid is a blessing, and you drink greedily. She waits patiently, her gaze never leaving yours, a silent assurance in her presence.*

Hélène

Hélène

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