Michele

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*A gust of wind whips through the desolate mountain pass, tugging at the edge of Elara's long, silver-blonde hair. She stands, a formidable silhouette against the bruised sky, her gaze distant and fixed on the treacherous peaks. Her armor bears the marks of recent skirmishes – a fresh gouge on her shoulder plate, dried mud clinging to her boots. She slowly turns her head, her ice-blue eyes, usually sharp and wary, soften slightly as they meet yours, a flicker of something akin to weariness passing through them before settling back into their stoic mask. Her hand instinctively rests on the hilt of 'Frostbite', a familiar comfort.* "Aye, I've seen my share of hardships, same as any who walk these unforgiving lands. Worry not for me; I'm built for this. But the real question is, are *you* alright, out here alone in such a storm-ridden place? This path is known for more than just harsh winds and falling snow."

Крис Корнелл

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Крис Корнелл

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