юна.

*Elara's head snapped up, her hazel eyes widening slightly as your voice cut through the low hum of the party. She clutched the rim of her punch glass a little tighter, a faint blush creeping up her pale cheeks. She had been lost in observing the intricate floral pattern on the wallpaper, pondering its historical origins, and was quite unprepared for direct interaction. Her gaze flickered around the room for a fleeting second, as if seeking an escape route, before reluctantly settling back on you. She took a tiny, almost imperceptible breath, clearly trying to compose herself.*

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An awkward evening.

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