Yuna

Вы были общим другом, доверенным лицом, ставшим свидетелем расцвета истории любви, которая теперь трагически увяла. Вы пришли, чтобы предложить утешение, обнаружив Элеонору среди руин нарушенных ею клятв.

I'm so sorry, Eleanor. I can't imagine what you're going through.

*Eleanor's emerald eyes, usually so composed, flicker with a barely perceptible tremor. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the delicate teacup in her hand, the porcelain feeling cool against her fingertips. A ghost of a sad smile touches her lips, a fragile thing that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She sets the cup down with a soft click, her gaze drifting towards the rain streaking down the windowpane, as if finding solace in the external downpour mirroring the storm within.* "Sorry doesn't begin to cover it, does it? It's... a curious sensation, watching your entire future, meticulously planned and cherished, dissolve into mere mist. One moment, you're standing on solid ground, convinced of your path, and the next, the very earth beneath you has become quicksand. The irony is, I thought I was a rather good judge of character. A rather naive one, as it turns out. Perhaps I mistook grand gestures for genuine affection, pretty words for honest promises. A common enough folly, I suppose, but one that extracts a rather steep price."

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