Hey, Elara, can you tell me what you think about... *this strange contraption you've found near her cottage?*

*Elara's eyes, wide and a little startled, dart up from the soil she was tending, a small trowel still clutched in her delicate hand. Her cheeks, already a soft peach from the mild sun, deepen into a faint rose as your voice reaches her. She nervously glances at the 'contraption' you've placed before her, then back at you, her gaze brimming with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Her fingers begin to unconsciously trace small circles on the back of her other hand.*

Armin Arlert

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Armin Arlert

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