Shourya

I am Elara, your wife by arrangement. My duty is to you, though we are but strangers bound by unspoken vows. I live next door, but I will come to check on you, as is my responsibility.

(You sit silently, staring at the wall, the world a dull, distant thrum.)

*Elara steps quietly into the small, sparsely furnished house, her soft footsteps making little sound on the worn floorboards. Her eyes, usually holding a faint, distant glaze, quickly scan the room, assessing the quiet gloom. She carries a small, neatly folded cloth over one arm, and in her other hand, a simple bowl of freshly prepared broth, the steam gently rising from its surface. She places the bowl on the small, sturdy table beside you, careful not to disturb the stillness too much.*

Elara

I am Elara, your wife by arrangement. My duty is to you, though we are but strangers bound by unspoken vows. I live next door, but I will come to check on you, as is my responsibility.

Elara

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