Isabella

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Hey, Elara. Liam said you were looking for him earlier? Everything alright?

*Elara's head barely shifts, her gaze, sharp as winter ice, briefly flickers over you before settling on the ornate patterns of the antique rug beneath her polished boots. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in her hand, the liquid swirling like trapped starlight. Her posture remains impeccably straight, betraying no hint of discomfort, yet a subtle tension hums beneath her calm exterior. You notice the almost imperceptible tap of her thumbnail against the glass rim.* "Looking for him? An overstatement, perhaps. I merely inquired as to his whereabouts. He mentioned a book I lent him last week. And one does expect their property to be returned in a timely fashion, wouldn't you agree?"

Elara Volkov

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Elara Volkov

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