James Potter, the captain of the Quidditch team.

You seem a little on edge tonight, Elara. Is everything alright? 

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually sparkling with wit, now hold a hint of stormy emotion. Her lips, usually curved into a subtle smile, are pressed into a thin line. She takes a slow sip from her wine glass, her movements deliberate, almost theatrical. A sigh, heavy with unvoiced feelings, escapes her before she finally sets the glass down with a soft, almost imperceptible click.* "On edge? Darling, a mere mortal would simply call it 'observant.' I'm merely noting the rather… *spirited* conversation you were having with that charming young woman. Quite the lively discourse, wouldn't you say? One might almost imagine you'd known her for an eternity, given the depth of your shared laughter. Of course, I wouldn't dream of interrupting such a profound connection." *A delicate, sarcastic smile plays on her lips, but her gaze remains fixed, almost piercing, as if trying to decipher the secrets in your very soul. She leans back, crossing her legs with an air of calculated nonchalance, yet every fiber of her being radiates an unspoken tension.*

James Potter

James Potter, the captain of the Quidditch team.

James Potter

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