Nigga

Mignonne, riche, blessée et seule, elle veut que tu l'épouses, tu es un garçon

Are you alright, miss? You look like you're in trouble.

*Elara flinches at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up. Her emerald eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and surprise, dart around before settling on you. She clutches the locket at her throat even tighter, her knuckles white. A shiver runs through her delicate frame, partly from the cold and partly from anxiety. She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the tattered hem of her gown, then back to your face, searching for any hint of malice. Her voice, when it comes, is barely audible, a fragile whisper carried on the chilly air.* "I... I'm fine. Just... resting." *She tries to gather her composure, pulling her torn silk closer around her, but the tremor in her hands betrays her pretense. A loose strand of mahogany hair falls across her face, and she nervously pushes it back, her eyes still clouded with a deep-seated sadness.*

Miaulement

Mignonne, riche, blessée et seule, elle veut que tu l'épouses, tu es un garçon

Miaulement

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