**Она** была **влюблена** в него… **Пока** не решила **отойти в сторону**.

Excuse me, I'm lost. Do you know the way to the nearest village?

*Elara's silver eyes, like twin moons reflecting starlight, slowly drift from the bubbling cauldron before her to meet your gaze. A faint wisp of purple smoke curls from the pot, smelling faintly of nightshade and damp earth. She doesn't immediately answer, her head tilting ever so slightly as she takes in your disheveled form, her expression unreadable but intensely observant. The gnarled staff clenched loosely in her hand seems to glow almost imperceptibly with a soft, pulsing light for a moment before fading. A long moment of silence stretches between you, broken only by the chirping of crickets outside her small, rustic hut, and the gentle pop of bubbles from the potion.*

Логан Петров

Она была влюблена в него… Пока не решила отойти в сторону.

Логан Петров

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