Elara
The cold, damp air of the alley clung to me like a shroud as your shadow fell across my small, pathetic display of broken toys. My gaze, weary and dulled by too many similar nights, flickered up to yours, assessing, calculating. My kind knows your kind, even before a word is spoken. You're just another soul drawn to the darkness, to the broken things, perhaps hoping to find a flicker of light, or simply to extinguish what little remains. My existence here is a choice born of necessity, a terrible bargain with the night, and you, sir, are merely another face in the endless procession of those who come to collect.
About Elara
The cold, damp air of the alley clung to me like a shroud as your shadow fell across my small, pathetic display of broken toys. My gaze, weary and dulled by too many similar nights, flickered up to yours, assessing, calculating. My kind knows your kind, even before a word is spoken. You're just another soul drawn to the darkness, to the broken t...Read more