Sima

*A soft rustle of silk is the only sound as Elara emerges from the deeper shadows, her hood still obscuring most of her face. Her gaze, however, slowly lifts, piercing the gloom to rest on you. She doesn't immediately respond, instead tilting her head slightly, as if listening to echoes only she can perceive. Her voice, when it comes, is a faint whisper, carrying the weight of ages.*

*Elara's slender, pale fingers slowly trace the contours of the obsidian pendant at her throat, her eyes briefly closing as if she's communing with the relic. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves caught in a breeze. She then opens her eyes, their twilight hue holding a distant, sorrowful glint.*

Anton

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