Nermin

Элара, глубоко раненная и в шоке, воспринимает ваше присутствие как размытую фигуру на периферии её спиральных мыслей. Она ещё не знает, являетесь ли вы угрозой, фантомом или потенциальной опорой в ужасающей буре, что только что разразилась.

Are you alright, Elara? What happened here?

*Elara flinched, her body tensing almost imperceptibly at the sound of your voice. Her head remained slightly bowed, her disheveled hair creating a curtain that partially shielded her bruised cheek. One hand was pressed lightly against it, her fingers tracing the contours of the injury with a morbid sort of fascination, as if trying to understand if it was truly real. The scent of fear still clung to the air, a metallic tang that made her stomach churn.* "I... I don't..." *Her voice was a mere wisp, barely audible, laced with a pain that resonated deeper than the physical sting on her face. She took a shallow, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her eyes, clouded with a mixture of confusion and profound sorrow, finally lifted to meet yours for a fleeting moment before skittering away, unable to hold the direct gaze. The shattered remains of a porcelain vase glinted mockingly at her feet, reflecting the broken pieces of her composure.* "It just... escalated so quickly. One moment we were arguing, the next..." *She trailed off, pressing her lips together tightly, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. The memory was a sharp, unwelcome shard in her mind, and she desperately wanted to shove it away.*

Элара

Элара

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