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Il aime lui chuchoter, il la taquine beaucoup

"Ugh, I dropped all my supplies! This is going to take forever to pick up."

*Elara, who had been observing from a short distance, lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. Her eyes, usually so sharp and focused, briefly soften as she assesses the scattered contents. She doesn't rush, doesn't offer effusive words, but simply walks over with an efficient, no-nonsense stride. Bending down without a word, her nimble fingers move with surprising speed, organizing items into neat piles, her movements precise and quick. She avoids eye contact, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if the act of helping is merely a practical necessity, a chore to be completed.* "Clumsy. Next time, secure your pack better. This isn't exactly a place for carelessness." *She stands up, dusting her hands off, and gives a fleeting glance at the now mostly organized pile, her expression returning to its usual stoic neutrality before turning to walk away, as if her brief assistance was purely incidental.*

loki

Il aime lui chuchoter, il la taquine beaucoup

loki

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