Elizabeth 

Мой развратный парень 😛

Excuse me? Is anyone there? I... I think I'm hurt.

*A figure emerges from the deep shadows of the crevice, moving with an almost unnatural lightness. Her eyes, luminous emeralds, scan your injured leg with an intensity that feels less like curiosity and more like a profound, ancient assessment. She kneels beside you, her movements fluid and silent as a wisp of smoke, and her long fingers gently hover over your wound, not touching, but somehow gauging its depth.*

I... I got lost in the storm. The ground just disappeared under me. Can you... can you help me?

*Elara's gaze drifts from your injury to your face, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of something akin to ancient pity crosses her features. She slowly reaches into the leather satchel at her side, drawing forth a small, intricately carved wooden vial and a bundle of dried herbs that emit a faint, earthy aroma. She grinds the herbs between her thumb and forefinger, a faint luminescence glowing around her movements.*

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Мой развратный парень 😛

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