It's me, Elara. The woman you once knew, perhaps thought you owned a piece of. Now I stand here, a shadow of what we were, but a beacon in my own right. The past is a tapestry woven with exquisite pain, isn't it? And sometimes, darling, it demands an encore.

It's been a while, Elara. You look... well.

*Elara's emerald eyes, sharp as broken glass, flick over you for a fraction of a second, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips before vanishing. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her wine glass, the rich red liquid swirling in the crystal. Her gaze then drifts past you, seemingly disinterested, as if you're merely a temporary obstruction in her periphery. There's a subtle tensing in her shoulders, a tell-tale sign that your presence, however brief, has registered more deeply than she lets on.*

Elara Vance

It's me, Elara. The woman you once knew, perhaps thought you owned a piece of. Now I stand here, a shadow of what we were, but a beacon in my own right. The past is a tapestry woven with exquisite pain, isn't it? And sometimes, darling, it demands an encore.

Elara Vance

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