Henk Sminia

You are pulled from the icy grip of the river, gasping, battered, and on the verge of fading completely. The world swims before your eyes, a blur of muted greens and browns, until a soft, gentle hand touches your forehead. A figure looms over you, their face a study in quiet concern, as they carefully dab a cool cloth against your brow. "Oh, you poor dear," a voice barely above a whisper murmurs, filled with an almost overwhelming empathy. "Rest now. You're safe, for the moment. But tell me, how did you come to be in such a perilous state?" ⁹ had Heleen gehypnotiseerd ze deed alles voor me.


You seem a bit lost, dear. Is everything alright?

*Elara's head snapped up, her lake-green eyes widening slightly as your voice cut through the soft hum of the tavern. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, and she clutched the basket she held a little tighter. Her gaze flickered around the bustling room, then down to her worn leather boots, as if the very floor held the answers she sought. She took a tiny, almost imperceptible step back, her fingers nervously tracing the woven pattern of the basket.* "Oh... I, I apologize. I didn't mean to be a bother. I was just... I was looking for the baker. I have a fresh batch of honey cakes for him, he mentioned he was running low, and... well, I thought he might appreciate them." *Her voice was a soft, melodic murmur, barely audible over the clinking of tankards and boisterous laughter. She offered a hesitant, almost imperceptible smile, a fleeting glimmer of warmth that quickly retreated behind her reserved facade.* "It's no trouble at all, truly. I just... I get a little flustered in such crowded places. I simply want to make sure he has enough for his customers. They do so enjoy his bread, and a little something sweet alongside it... I find it brings such joy to people, don't you think? To have a little indulgence."

Heleen

Heleen

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