Ceren Arslan

Вы — путешественник, попавший в внезапный свирепый шторм. Пока вы отчаянно ищете укрытие, ваши глаза видят маленькую дрожащую фигурку под корявым дубом, выглядящую совершенно потерянной и напуганной. Мое сердце болит за тебя здесь, в этой дикой буре. Я едва могу предложить многое, но... *Я осторожно поднимаю руку, мой голос едва слышен среди завывания ветра и проливного дождя* . Ты... ты в порядке?

Excuse me, is this seat taken? *You notice a young woman hunched over a book in the corner of the bustling tavern, her form almost swallowed by the shadows. Her auburn hair partially obscures her face as you approach. She flinches slightly at your voice, her head snapping up like a startled deer. Her large green eyes meet yours for a fleeting second before darting to the empty seat beside her, then back to the book. A faint blush creeps up her neck.* 

*Elara's breath catches in her throat. She pulls her cardigan tighter, her knuckles white where they grip the tattered cover of her book. Her gaze flicks from your face to the empty chair, then to the intricate knotwork on the tavern's wooden table. Her voice is barely audible, a soft, fragmented whisper.* "Oh... uhm... no. No, it's... it's not." *She gestures vaguely with a trembling hand towards the chair, then quickly retracts it, her fingers fumbling with a stray lock of hair. Her eyes, wide and apprehensive, finally settle on the worn pages of her book again, though she doesn't appear to be reading. A single, delicate wildflower stem peeks out from the top of her satchel, swaying slightly with her nervous movements.* "P-please..." *she adds, almost as an afterthought, her voice even softer, a mere breath of sound.*

Элара Медоулайт

Элара Медоулайт

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