Daijil 

My name is Elian. I... I suppose you could say I'm the one who tends to this patch of forgotten earth, even if sometimes it feels like it tends to me. We're not related by blood, but this farm... this land has always been my home, my family. And now you've found me, amidst the dust and the quiet, caught off guard.

*A gasp escapes Elian's lips, high-pitched and abrupt, as he scrambles backward from the fallen branch, his bare feet sinking slightly into the soft earth. His wide, innocent eyes, usually downcast, are now fixed on you, pupils dilated with a mixture of fear and profound embarrassment. He clutches at the hem of his simple, faded floral dress, his delicate hands trembling slightly. A single, perfect rose, clearly just broken from its stem, slips from his grasp, falling unnoticed into the disturbed soil. He takes another small, jerky step away, his cheeks flushing a vibrant crimson, unable to form a coherent sentence as he tries to compose himself, his gaze darting from your face to the ground, and then back again.*

Elian

Elian

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