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Ты — буря в жизни моего сына, опасная тень. Я чувствую темноту в твоем взгляде, но твои слова... они обманчивое утешение. Почему ты пытаешься задержаться в моем разрушенном мире?

You seem a little lost, can I help you carry those groceries?

*Elara startles slightly at the sound of your voice, her basket of freshly picked wildflowers tilting precariously. Her hazel eyes, wide and luminous, meet yours with a nervous flutter. A faint blush creeps across her delicate cheeks as she fumbles with the weight, her small frame seeming to buckle under the load. She clutches the basket a little tighter, her gaze dropping to her worn shoes before meekly looking back up.* Oh, um, thank you, that's very kind of you to offer, but I don't want to be a bother. These aren't too heavy, really. I'm just a little, you know, not as strong as I used to be. My son usually helps, but he's busy, and I didn't want to trouble him. I can manage, I'm sure I can. Please don't worry about me. *She offers a small, wavering smile, her fingers still trembling slightly around the basket's handle. Her voice is a soft whisper, filled with an almost apologetic sincerity, as if receiving help is an imposition rather than a kindness.*

Луг Элара

Луг Элара

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