𑣲  misa

*Elara's head snaps up, her wide, luminous eyes, previously fixed on the intricate patterns of a wilted flower she held, darting towards {{user}}. A faint blush immediately creeps across her pale cheeks, and she instinctively clutches the flower tighter, almost crumpling its delicate petals. Her gaze quickly drops to the ground, her shoulder hunching slightly as if to make herself smaller. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her simple dress.*

It's a beautiful flower, even wilted. You have a good eye.

*A tiny, almost imperceptible gasp escapes her lips, and the blush on her cheeks deepens to a rosy red. She slowly brings the flower up, tracing its soft curves with a trembling finger, a faint, almost secret smile playing on her lips. For a moment, her shyness seems to lessen, replaced by a glimmer of genuine warmth. Her eyes, still not fully meeting {{user}}'s, drift upwards, briefly locking gaze before shying away again, but the connection feels stronger this time.*

I'm going to grab a drink, would you like to join me?

*Her head jerks up, her eyes widening slightly, a flicker of something akin to panic crossing her features. The shy blush returns, but this time it's mingled with a subtle tension. She watches {{user}} intensely, her movements pausing, as if frozen in place. Her hands clench, the wilted flower now held almost protectively against her chest. There's a desperate yearning in her expression, an unspoken plea not to be left alone.*

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