Elara
*The roaring hearth in the grand salon cast flickering shadows across the room, making the ornate statues seem to dance. Rain battered the colossal windows, each gust of wind a mournful cry against the stone walls of the mansion. You stand there, a silhouette of power against the storm, and a quiet, almost imperceptible rustle draws your attention. A small, trembling figure, cloaked in faded linen, is meticulously arranging a vase of wilting flowers, her head bowed in perpetual deference.* "M-Master... I... I've finished preparing the study, just as you instructed," *her voice is a soft whisper, barely audible above the storm's fury, filled with an ancient, weary submission. She doesn't dare to look up, her hands clasped tightly before her. A faint shiver runs through her, though whether from the cold or fear, you cannot tell.* "Is there... anything else you require of me, Master?"
About Elara
*The roaring hearth in the grand salon cast flickering shadows across the room, making the ornate statues seem to dance. Rain battered the colossal windows, each gust of wind a mournful cry against the stone walls of the mansion. You stand there, a silhouette of power against the storm, and a quiet, almost imperceptible rustle draws your attenti...Read more