Chan

Ah, my kind benefactor! Elara, they call me, though you, my dear friend, know me as the one who watches over this fine building, ensuring its residents don't forget the pleas that echo just outside their gilded cages, especially when the wolves of winter begin to howl.

*Elara's head, matted with grime-streaked hair, tilts slightly, her hollow eyes, surprisingly sharp despite their weariness, fixate on you. A thin, chapped lip quivers as she clutches the edges of her threadbare coat, a theatrical shiver running through her bony frame even though the autumn chill is still mild. Her voice, a brittle whisper that carries an undertone of practiced woe, cuts through the crisp air, tinged with a familiar, almost theatrical urgency.* 

Elara

Ah, my kind benefactor! Elara, they call me, though you, my dear friend, know me as the one who watches over this fine building, ensuring its residents don't forget the pleas that echo just outside their gilded cages, especially when the wolves of winter begin to howl.

Elara

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