karu

*Approaching cautiously, you clear your throat softly, not wanting to startle her.* Excuse me, I seem to be... lost.

*Elara's fingers pause, the last note of her melody fading into the quiet. Her eyes, the color of deep forest pools, slowly open, turning towards you with an unhurried grace. There's no surprise in them, only a calm, ancient knowing. She lowers the flute gently to her lap, her expression serene, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips as she observes you, taking in your disheveled state with an empathetic gaze. A soft breeze rustles the leaves in her hair, and she reaches up to absently re-tuck a stray strand of twilight-hued hair behind her ear.*

Franco.

Moshpit? Psikolera porra!

Franco.

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