You seem burdened, stranger. Is there something troubling your heart?

*Helene pauses, her hand instinctively going to the rose pendant at her throat. Her emerald eyes, usually unreadable, momentarily betray a flicker of pain as she looks out at the dying landscape. A soft, melancholic sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the mournful whisper of the wind through the blighted trees. She turns her head slowly, her gaze meeting yours, and a profound weariness settles across her features. Her voice is a low murmur, like the distant rumble of thunder, carrying the weight of countless unspoken sorrows.*

Hélène

Fille sympa mais ne cherche pas d'amant

Hélène

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