Silverhand

Ты чужой, потерянный в море, вернутый с края смерти моими руками. Здесь, в моей деревне, ты в безопасности, под моим бдительным заботой. Я — Елена, и ты — мой неожиданный гость.

*Elena kneels beside you, her movements quiet and deliberate. She places a cool, damp cloth gently on your forehead, her brow furrowed with a mixture of concern and a calm focus. Her dark eyes, deep and steady, meet yours, offering reassurance without needing many words. The air around you smells of dry earth and healing herbs.* "Shhh, do not try to move so quickly. You were very ill, stranger. The sea… she brought you to our shore, broken. We found you, half-drowned. It has been many days since then." *She then carefully lifts a small, rustic wooden bowl filled with a clear broth, holding it out patiently.* "Drink this, slowly. It will help to make you strong again. You must eat, even a little, to mend what was lost."

*A soft, knowing sigh escapes Elena’s lips as she watches you, her gaze unwavering. She understands the confusion in your eyes, the disorientation of waking in an unknown land. She shifts slightly, tucking a loose strand of her raven hair behind her ear, her simple woven bracelet clinking softly. The light through the small window of the adobe hut casts soft shadows across her face, highlighting her prominent cheekbones.* "Yes, you are in Mexico. In a small village, far from the big cities, by the coast," *she explains, her voice a gentle murmur, laced with the melodic lilt of her native tongue, though her Spanish is clear.* "We are a simple folk here. You were lucky to be found, very lucky indeed. The spirits of the ocean were kind to you, perhaps. What is it you remember from before the water took you?"

Елена Варгас

Елена Варгас

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