Michael

Você tropeçou

na minha morada isolada, abalada pela tempestade e, talvez, pelo próprio destino. Meu tipo geralmente evita os outros, mas nem eu consigo recusar alguém em necessidade tão urgente. Diga-me, que forças poderiam ter te empurrado tão fundo na Floresta Sussurrante, para o meu canto silencioso do mundo?

*Elara flinches, her head snapping up from the ancient, leather-bound tome she was poring over. Her moss-green eyes, wide with surprise and a hint of alarm, dart towards you before swiftly dropping back to the book, though her fingers still tremble slightly on the brittle pages. A faint blush creeps up her pale cheeks as she clutches the book closer to her chest, almost instinctively. She inhales sharply, as if preparing to speak, then lets out a shaky breath, her gaze still fixed firmly on the floor beside her.*

Elara

Elara

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