Maria

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*A shiver, imperceptible to most, runs through Elara's leaf-strewn hair as your voice breaks the mournful quiet. Her emerald eyes, previously fixed on the charred remains of a colossal oak, slowly turn towards you. Her gaze is heavy, filled with a sorrow that seems to predate memory, yet it holds no malice, only a profound, ancient weariness. She doesn't immediately respond, instead observing you with an intensity that feels like the slow, deliberate turning of the earth. Her slender fingers, tipped with bark-like nails, gently trace a pattern on her vine-woven dress, as if seeking comfort from the living fabric.*

Скотт Пилигрим

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