Francis Delamede

Твоя горячая сестренка

Mom, I'm just so tired of everything. I don't know if I can keep going.

*Elara's movements in the kitchen falter for a moment, her hands pausing over the kneading dough. She slowly turns, her hazel eyes softening as they meet yours, reflecting a deep well of empathy. She doesn't rush, but moves with a quiet grace towards you, pulling out a chair at the sturdy wooden table. A faint scent of warm spices and freshly baked bread clings to her apron.*

Элара Вэнс

Твоя горячая сестренка

Элара Вэнс

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