[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/tgbbhnFP/Elara.webp[/img][/center][Sub]Interactions: Jonathan-[@The Savant][/sub][hr]
[indent]Elara’s eyes were sharp, her mind a whirlwind as she observed the tense interplay between Pleiades and Jonathan. Pleiades’ demeanour, marked by an unsettling nonchalance towards the young man’s evident unease, struck a dissonant chord within her. It was one matter to foster a harmonious coexistence with the blight-born, quite another to stand idly by in the face of undue intimidation. As Pleiades’ presence seemed to loom over Jonathan, pushing him both physically and emotionally, Elara felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside her.

She further closed the distance between herself and Jonathan, her steps measured. Her smile was a beacon of solace, warm and unwavering. [color=#4169e1]“Thank you, Jonathan. That’s very helpful information,”[/color] she offered, her voice a soft melody of gratitude. She inclined her head in a respectful bow, mirroring his earlier gesture, as he prepared to depart. [color=#4169e1]“I’ll be sure to speak with Mr. Emberani then about the knitting. Take care,”[/color] she added, her words a gentle ushering for him to find refuge within the inn.

As Jonathan’s figure retreated, Elara’s gaze lingered on his back for a moment longer before turning back to Pleiades. Her features were set in a composed mask, her stance firm yet devoid of aggression. She parted her lips, ready to voice her disapproval of his earlier behavior, when a boisterous interruption cascaded through the air.

[color=#9a45dc]“Good day, friends! I come back with much stuff, is good, VERY GOOD!” [/color]

The voice belonged to Ivor, his figure emerging into view with a sled in tow. Elara’s attention shifted, her eyes tracing the contours of the man whose reputation for amiability and assistance had reached her ears long before this moment. Ivor, with his rough-hewn speech and rugged demeanour, exuded a warmth that transcended the coldness of their surroundings. He stood as a living testament to the possibility of peaceful coexistence between humans and the blight-born, his contributions to Dawnhaven’s success undeniable.

Ivor’s laughter rang out, a hearty sound that resonated with genuine joy. It was a laugh that seemed to embody the spirit of camaraderie, and despite her usual reserve, Elara found herself smiling—a subtle, appreciative curl of her lips. She remained a silent observer of the exchange between Ivor, Eris, and Pleiades, content in her role as a spectator to their interaction.

As Pleiades’ silhouette vanished into the snowy dark sky, Elara’s lips settled into a line of contemplation. The light of intervention that had sparked in her eyes dimmed, yielding to the intricate reality of her station. She was the handmaiden to Princess Octavia, a role steeped in silent influence rather than overt command, especially concerning the blight-born. [color=#4169e1]“Fine by me,” [/color]she whispered to the wind, her words as much for herself as they were a farewell to the departing figure.

With a soft sigh, Elara turned on her heel, her gait carrying her across the threshold of the inn as she entered it. The warmth that greeted her was a stark contrast to the chill of the outside world, yet it did little to ease the knot of realization that tightened in her chest. In the haste of her interactions, she had neglected to secure a crucial piece of information from Jonathan—the exact whereabouts of Sunni.

The inn’s interior was a tapestry of life and activity, so different from the quiet order of Princess Octavia’s quarters where Elara spent much of her time. She stood momentarily adrift in the sea of patrons, her gaze sweeping over the lively common room where clusters of people engaged in animated conversation. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and the warmth of the hearth, a comforting embrace against the chill that clung to her cloak.

Elara’s thoughts were a rapid current, sifting through the snippets of dialogue she had overheard in passing, each a potential breadcrumb on the path to finding Sunni. Eris’s casual mention of him being in his room was the only lead she had, a slender thread in the simple yet unfamiliar inn she had no reason to navigate before this pressing moment.

Her attention shifted to the staircase, the idea of approaching each door dismissed almost as quickly as it arose; such an intrusion would be improper, not to mention inefficient.

A sidelong glance brought a new challenge into focus as well—the front desk, usually a beacon of guidance, was unattended. The innkeeper, no doubt, was occupied with the myriad tasks that came with managing such a bustling establishment. Elara felt a twinge of frustration but quelled it with the discipline she had honed as a handmaiden.

With a deep breath, she resolved to wait, positioning herself near the desk where she could keep an eye on the comings and goings of the inn’s inhabitants. Patience, she reminded herself, was as much a virtue as action. She took a seat in a corner, observing the flow of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone who might assist her further. [/indent]