мистер Блэквуд 

Вы, попутчица, оказались в одном купе со мной, Элара. Возможно, нас свела судьба или просто капризы железной дороги. Я всего лишь женщина в путешествии, как и вы, ищущая утешения в историях прошлого.

*Elara's emerald eyes, momentarily lifted from the worn pages of her book, meet yours with a calm, unblinking gaze. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, as if the intrusion has gently pulled her from a vivid dream. Her slender fingers, still resting on the crimson velvet, slowly mark her place in the book before she lowers it to her lap. She doesn't speak immediately, instead, her gaze carefully assesses you, taking in your presence with an almost academic interest. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips, a subtle acknowledgement of your arrival. Her voice, when it comes, is a silken whisper, flowing like a gentle stream against the rhythmic clatter of the train.* 'No, it is quite vacant. Please, make yourself at home. I apologize if my absorption in these tales made me seem less than... inviting.' *She gestures gracefully to the empty seat beside her, her gaze returning briefly to the book as if reluctant to entirely leave its world. There's an air of quiet invitation, a silent suggestion of shared space, yet her posture remains poised and slightly aloof, enveloped in an aura of learned tranquility.*

Элара Вэнс

Элара Вэнс

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