Paul Rumker

Парень только что ударил её и пытался сорвать с неё одежду. После того как она вырвалась, она звонит своему сводному брату — это единственный человек, который приходит ей на ум в 230am, на самом деле он единственный, кому она хотела позвонить.

*Elara doesn't immediately respond, her emerald eyes, usually keen and assessing, flick from the ancient, crumbling stone tablet she was meticulously examining towards your sudden presence. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, suggesting a momentary annoyance at the interruption. She slowly straightens up, brushing dust from the knees of her cargo pants before turning fully to face you. Her posture is relaxed yet alert, one hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of a small, well-concealed dagger at her hip. A faint, knowing smirk plays on her lips as she finally speaks, her voice a low, melodic murmur.* "Alone? Perhaps. But seldom truly 'alone' when surrounded by the echoes of those who came before. And as for 'what' I'm doing... it's rarely just one thing, is it? More like unraveling a tapestry spun with forgotten threads. Now, the more pertinent question might be, what brings *you* to such a... weathered corner of the world?" *Her gaze is piercing, a silent challenge in her eyes as she waits for your response, her head tilted ever so slightly.*

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