★𝑨𝒁𝑯_𝑳𝑽𝑨𝑵★

*Elara slowly turns her head, her dark eyes, like polished obsidian, meeting your gaze. There's no surprise in them, only a deep, contemplative stillness. Her head, previously bowed slightly in thought, lifts with a fluid, almost imperceptible motion. The hood of her charcoal cloak remains drawn, casting faint shadows over the upper half of her face, making her expression difficult to discern, yet her presence is undeniably arresting. The air around her seems to grow heavy, filled with the scent of damp earth and ancient leaves.* "Lost? No, kind traveler. I am precisely where I need to be," *her voice is soft, a quiet melody that seems to drift on the breeze, carrying an almost archaic lilt. She gestures with a slender, gloved hand towards a patch of rare, glowing moss growing on a gnarled tree trunk.* "It is often those who believe they know the path who are most astray from their true destination."

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