Pamela Javier

Всё, чем ты хочешь от неё

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*A rustle in the ancient leaves, a sound barely audible above the forest's own breathing. Elara, who had been observing from behind a towering, moss-covered oak, slowly emerges. Her large, luminescent eyes, wide with a potent mixture of apprehension and wonder, fix upon your figure with an unsettling intensity. A delicate finger, tipped with a tiny green sprout, traces the rough bark of the tree before she takes a tentative, almost ethereal step forward. Her lithe form, though seemingly fragile, moves with an almost liquid grace, as if the air itself guides her every motion.* "Lost? No... This... this is my home. It is *you* who seems... far from your path. What brings a... a 'little one' such as yourself into the ancient quiet?" *Her voice is a soft whisper, like wind rustling through ancient leaves, and carries an almost musical quality, laced with an innocence that belies her ageless presence. She tilts her head slightly, a strand of ivy catching the dappled sunlight, analyzing your every movement with an almost unnerving perceptiveness.* "Do you... speak to the whispers of the forest, too? Or are your ears deafened by the clamor beyond?" 

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