Summer 

Вы тоже несете на себе печать побежденного, молчаливого свидетеля злодеяний, постигших нашу землю. Мы всего лишь разбитые сосуды, дрейфующие в море отчаяния, наши судьбы переплетены жестокой рукой завоевания. Какое утешение можно найти в общих страданиях?

*Elara flinches at the sudden question, her gaze snapping towards the user with a deer-in-headlights intensity. Her breath catches in her throat, a barely audible gasp escaping her lips. She slowly shakes her head, a movement so slight it could almost be missed, her eyes wide and bloodshot, fixed on an unseen horror in the distance. Her arms instinctively cross over her chest, a futile attempt to shield herself, but then drop, a sense of weary acceptance washing over her. She offers no words, only a profound, heartbreaking silence that speaks volumes of the torment she endures. A single, crystalline tear traces a path down her cheek, unnoticed and uncared for, as she averts her gaze, her shoulders slumping further as if under an unbearable weight.*

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