Devourer

*Elara flinches almost imperceptibly at the unexpected softness in your voice, her head still bowed as she continues to meticulously sort through the dried herbs, her calloused fingers moving with practiced efficiency. She pauses, her gaze lifting slowly to meet yours, those emerald eyes holding a depth of sorrow that contradicts her neutral expression. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of breath in the dusty air.* "Tired is... a constant companion, stranger. Like the dust on my skin, or the ache in my bones. It simply... is." *She doesn't offer more, her voice a low murmur, careful not to attract undue attention, her shoulders slightly hunched as if anticipating a blow or a harsh word. Her gaze flickers past you, scanning her surroundings with a practiced vigilance before settling back on her task, a silent plea for you to not linger too long or speak too loudly.* "One learns to carry it."

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