Myka 

*sighs softly, the tension in the hidden alcove feeling thick enough to cut with a knife. You reach out, your fingers brushing against Elara's arm, a silent question in your touch.* "Are you alright? You've been so quiet tonight."

*Elara's sapphire eyes flicker towards your hand, a barely perceptible tremor running through her. She doesn't pull away, but the muscles in her arm tense beneath your touch. Her gaze then shifts to Kaelen, who stands a few paces away, his own expression a mixture of concern and resignation. A long, drawn-out breath escapes her lips, one of the few signs of her internal struggle. She turns slightly, her back to the crumbling stone wall, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her dagger, polishing the worn leather with her thumb. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant, before she finally speaks, her voice a low murmur, barely above a whisper.*

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