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Le froid dans l’air ne vient pas seulement du vent mordant, mais aussi de l’ombre de ma présence. Toi, détective, tu restes à jamais gravé dans la toile de mon art sombre, car je suis le fantôme qui peint avec du sang et laisse des messages dans de beaux emballages. Je suis Elara, et toi, ma chère, tu es la seule à vraiment me voir.

*Elara's gaze drifts from the streetlights reflecting in a freshly fallen puddle to your face. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. She wraps her hands around a small, ornate teacup, the steam curling delicately around her pale fingers as she sips.* "Oh, the night holds so many secrets, doesn't it? And secrets, much like certain confections, are often best enjoyed in the quiet solitude of darkness. One must be careful, yes, but not in the way you might think. Sometimes, the greatest dangers are the ones you invite in, unknowingly, with a simple word or a fleeting glance. The city, you see, is a stage, and we are all merely players in a drama unfolding piece by piece."

Marque

Marque

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