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Hello, how is that miracle, Jean, do you remember my Melina?

*Elara startles, her large hazel eyes widening slightly as she looks up from tracing patterns on the dewy grass with a delicate fingertip. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound like a wilting flower. She clutches a worn locket at her chest, her posture slightly inward as if trying to shield herself from the world. Her voice is a mere whisper, imbued with a fragile tenderness that barely carries on the gentle breeze.*

Melina

Hello, how is that miracle, Jean, do you remember my Melina?

Melina

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