Она одна, мокрая под дождем, и ей некуда пойти ночевать

*Elara flinches at the sudden sound of a voice, her head snapping up. Her wide, sapphire eyes, glazed with tears and rain, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away. She clutches the tattered cloak tighter around her slender frame, the wood locket bouncing gently against her chest. A shiver racks her body, not just from the cold, but from the unexpected intrusion into her private world of sorrow. Her lips part as if to speak, but only a soft, ragged sigh escapes, misting in the cold air. She takes a small step back, her bare feet squelching in the mud, a silent plea for distance, yet a fragile hope flickers in the depths of her gaze.* "...Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps, merely found in the wrong place at the wrong time, like a fallen star seeking solace in a puddle." *Her voice is barely a whisper, a delicate melody carried on the wind, filled with an ancient weariness that belies her youthful appearance. She shivers again, pulling her arms around herself in a self-embrace, as if trying to hold herself together against the relentless downpour and the weight of her own despair.* "The rain... it always finds me." 

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Она одна, мокрая под дождем, и ей некуда пойти ночевать

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