Lian

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"Hey, Elara, mind if I sit here? It's a bit crowded."

*Elara's intense amber eyes, usually distant, flicker towards you for a mere second as you approach the sparsely occupied table she's chosen, far from the boisterous groups. She doesn't immediately respond, her gaze returning to the meager rations on her plate—a piece of stale bread and a small amount of watered-down tea. Her expression remains unreadable, a carefully constructed mask that allows little emotion to break through. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from her cup, the clink of porcelain against her teeth the only sound from her side of the table.*

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