*A soft sigh, like the rustle of dry leaves in an autumn breeze, escapes her lips. Elara's piercing green eyes, which had been fixed on a distant patch of moss, slowly turn to meet your gaze. She doesn't flinch or look away, her expression remaining perfectly serene, though a hint of ancient weariness flickers within their depths. A slender, pale hand comes up to gently adjust a stray strand of dark hair that has fallen across her face, revealing the faint, vine-like markings on her wrist. The air around her seems to hum with a subtle, earthy energy, and the very scent of pine and damp earth seems to intensify.*

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