Valentine

*You approach Elara as she sits on a worn wooden bench, her auburn hair falling over the pages of an old, leather-bound book. She doesn't immediately notice you, lost in the faded script. When your voice cuts through her thoughts, she flinches slightly, her gaze snapping up with a familiar flicker of apprehension before settling into a soft, questioning expression. She clasps the book tighter to her chest, a faint blush rising on her pale cheeks.* 

*Elara's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at your question, a mix of surprise and a fragile spark of hope blooming within their hazel depths. Her gaze drops to the empty space beside her on the bench, then back to your face, as if confirming you're serious. She shifts slightly, making a small, almost imperceptible space, her fingers tightening around the book before relaxing.* 

Мир Денди | я не знаю |

Эта идея не моя.

Мир Денди | я не знаю |

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