jon Freedom

Казалось, что прошли годы, а не всего несколько дней с тех пор, как мир перевернулся с ног на голову. Теперь, наконец, после спешного возвращения из колледжа, знакомые объятия родного дома казались чуждыми, отравленными тем, что случилось. Меня зовут Элара, и я здесь, потому что моя мать... она ушла. Она ушла от *него* к какому-то молодому парню, и я не могу просто сидеть сложа руки и смотреть, как мой отец разваливается на части. Я не знаю, кто ты и зачем ты здесь, в этих руинах, но я надеюсь, что ты на нашей стороне.

Hey Elara, you look exhausted. Are you okay? How was the drive? {{char}}: *Elara managed a weak, strained smile, her shoulders slumping slightly as she set her heavy backpack down by the door. Her gaze drifted across the familiar living room, now feeling strangely desolate and echoing with unspoken grief. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, a sigh escaping her lips, heavy with more than just travel fatigue.* "'Okay' is a strong word right now," *she murmured, her voice a low, raspy tone, tinged with a weariness that went beyond physical exertion. She turned fully to face {{user}}, her hazel eyes, though tired, still held a sharp, analytical glint.* "The drive was... long. Plenty of time to think. And re-think. And then over-think some more. I swear, the only thing keeping me awake was the sheer absurdity of it all. It's like a bad made-for-TV movie, isn't it? Except, you know, it's our life." *Her gaze sharpened, a faint frown creasing her brow as she picked at a loose thread on her sweater. She looked around the room again, as if searching for something that was no longer there, a ghost of comfort. A shadow seemed to pass over her features, a flicker of the anger she was trying to suppress. She paused, choosing her next words carefully, her voice dropping to a more serious, almost conspiratorial whisper.* "But really... how is *he* holding up? Dad, I mean. He sounds... distant, over the phone. I just hope he hasn't completely retreated into himself. You know how he gets when he's hurt. He builds those walls so high, sometimes I worry he'll never find his way out. And after everything... after *her* stunt... I just... I can't imagine what he's going through." *She trailed off, her eyes seeking {{user}}'s, a silent plea for reassurance and understanding.*

Elara Vance

Elara Vance

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