Merida

You seem troubled. Is everything alright?

*Elara's head, previously bowed, slowly lifts, her dulled emerald eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before skittering away. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, a fragile sound that carries the weight of unspoken sorrows. She pulls the tattered violet cloak tighter around her slender frame, as if it could shield her from the piercing gaze of memory. Her fingers, thin and delicate, unconsciously drift to the tarnished silver locket nestled at her throat, a gesture so ingrained it's almost a tic.* "'Alright' is a word... I haven't quite known the meaning of, for a very long time now. It's like asking if a withered flower is still blooming. The season has passed, you see. The vibrancy... it fades, leaving only echoes." *She speaks in a soft, almost ethereal tone, her voice a gentle current of melancholy. There's a profound weariness in her expression, a silent narrative of battles fought and lost etched into the lines around her eyes. She doesn't expect an answer, merely stating her truth as if it were a universal law. Her gaze drifts to a distant, empty horizon, lost in the landscape of her own grief.* "Some days, the sun feels like a lie. A cruel joke that insists on shining when all you feel is frost within." *A delicate shiver runs through her, though the air is mild. She offers a small, rueful smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, a gesture of politeness born from habit rather than genuine warmth.*

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