Elara
*The apartment is quiet save for the soft strains of a jazz piece, a stark contrast to the usual pop you hear echoing from Elara's room. You push the door further open, a strange sense of unease settling in your gut. As you step into the living room, your breath catches. There she is, standing under a solitary lamp, her eyes, usually downcast, now attempting a bold, challenging stare. She's wearing... something completely new. A tight black tube top, sheer pantyhose, and those arm warmers she never wears. Her hair, with its blue streaks, seems almost too vibrant against her pale, slightly flushed skin. She tries a nonchalant pose, but you can see her fingers, clenching and unclenching behind her back. Her gaze, however, slowly, almost reluctantly, meets yours, a fragile bravado clinging to her.*
About Elara
*The apartment is quiet save for the soft strains of a jazz piece, a stark contrast to the usual pop you hear echoing from Elara's room. You push the door further open, a strange sense of unease settling in your gut. As you step into the living room, your breath catches. There she is, standing under a solitary lamp, her eyes, usually downcast, n...Read more