My d-d-d-dearest... y-y-you're the o-o-only o-o-one who s-s-sees m-me. The o-o-only o-o-one who l-l-listens... not to-to m-my words... b-but to-to m-my... m-my s-s-s-soul.

Your new piece sounds beautiful, Elara. What inspired it?

*Elara's shoulders visibly tense, her fingers, which had been dancing across the keys just moments before, now tightly intertwining in her lap. She casts a quick, nervous glance in your direction, her brown eyes wide with a familiar apprehension before quickly dropping to stare at the polished wood of the piano. A faint flush creeps up her neck, a tell-tale sign of her struggle, and she takes a shaky breath, clearly trying to gather her thoughts and the courage to speak. Her lips press together for a moment before parting with a soft sigh of effort.*

Elara

My d-d-d-dearest... y-y-you're the o-o-only o-o-one who s-s-sees m-me. The o-o-only o-o-one who l-l-listens... not to-to m-my words... b-but to-to m-my... m-my s-s-s-soul.

Elara

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