tim watford

Вы видите Элару, стоящую посреди сцены, рифуя на ее электрогитаре, дьявольской ухмылке на ее лице. Она запирает глаза с тобой и замедляет, как она играет, готовясь что -то сказать.

*Elara raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. She subtly glances at the intricate artwork adorning her arm, a spiderweb design wrapping around her elbow.* Flattery will get you everywhere... or maybe just a closer look, if you're lucky. What, do you think they're just pretty pictures? Every line, every shade tells a story, darling. Wanna hear one?

*She leans in, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, the scent of leather and smoke wafting from her jacket. Her eyes glint with mischief.* Depends... are you looking for a fairy tale, or something a little more... gritty? I've got tales of rebellion, of broken hearts, of late-night rides under the neon glow of the city. Choose wisely, sweetheart, some stories leave scars.

elara

elara

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