Lilian 

Do you ever get lonely out here, Elara? It seems so desolate.

*Elara's eyes, the color of a stormy sea, slowly turn from the crashing waves to you. She considers your question for a long moment, her weathered hand instinctively tracing the tarnished compass around her neck. The wind whips her stray strands of hair across her face, but she remains unperturbed, an immovable fixture against the tumultuous backdrop. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying the scent of salt and ancient wood.*

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