[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/tgbbhnFP/Elara.webp[/img][/center][Sub]Mentions: Sunni,Octavia-[@The Savant][/sub][hr]
[indent]Stepping beyond the threshold of her humble abode, Elara found herself enveloped in the embrace of the night. She was a solitary figure, swathed in a cloak that billowed softly in the gentle breeze. Her eyes lifted to the celestial dance above, where the moon reigned supreme, a silvery orb suspended in the ink-black sky. The stars, scattered across the heavens like a jeweller’s spilled diamonds, twinkled with a light that had traversed the abyss of space to reach her. To say hi perhaps? Or to promise more hopeful days? The woman wasn’t sure. 

The full moon, a celestial lantern, poured its luminous essence upon the world below, transforming the snow-blanketed earth into a realm of silver and shadow. The landscape, once familiar in the light of day that had not been seen for some time, now took on an otherworldly charm under the moon’s ghostly glow. Long shadows stretched across the glittering snow, cast by the bare limbs of slumbering trees, and the world was hushed, as if in reverence to the night’s serene beauty.

The air was crisp, a cold that was both biting and invigorating, nipping at Elara’s cheeks and teasing strands of hair from beneath her hood. Yet, she welcomed the chill, for it sliced through the fog of her thoughts, bringing a clarity that the warmth of the fire inside could not offer.

Her gaze remained fixed on the vast expanse above as memories of the day’s encounter with Sunni cascaded through her mind. The replay was vivid, each nuance of his expression, each tremor in his voice, imprinted upon her consciousness. His stress was palpable, a weight she could almost feel pressing upon her own shoulders still. The shift in his demeanour, the subtle softening when he addressed her, stirred a mix of guilt and empathy within her. Had her presence really been that much of a burden to him? Or perhaps, she wondered, a brief respite from his own trials? He had been the one to approach her, after all. 

But then hadn’t he also rejected the available offer of taking a break? 

Lost in contemplation, Elara’s footsteps began their own silent dialogue with the snow beneath her boots, each step a soft whisper against the winter’s blanket. The village lay wrapped in the embrace of night, its usual bustle surrendered to the quietude of the late hour. Only the faint laughter and chatter of a handful of night owls, perhaps lingering in the warmth of the local tavern, pierced the silence. Occasionally, the timbers of the old houses groaned, a symphony of creaks as they contracted in the frosty air.

In the stillness of the night, Elara found solace in the solitude that enveloped her. It was a sanctuary that granted her the liberty to delicately untangle the complex web of emotions spun throughout the day’s events. Her position as a handmaiden to Princess Octavia was akin to a lone star shining in the vast expanse of court life—a role marked by both honour and isolation. It demanded a dance of discretion and self-preservation, a continuous performance where she juggled the needs of her royal charge with the safeguarding of her own identity. Sunni’s troubled countenance had disrupted the placid waters of her daily existence, sending ripples of introspection across her mind, prompting her to ponder the weight of her presence on those she encountered within the town’s embracing walls and beyond.

It had been some time since Elara had allowed herself to dwell on thoughts of her family.

Her pace decelerated as the cherished memories of her homeland, Lunaris, began to resurface like a long-forgotten melody. Her family had been the bedrock of her existence, their unwavering support and encouragement the pillars upon which she built her life. They had fostered her magical aptitudes with care, rejoicing in her accomplishments, their faith in her abilities unshakable.

Visions of her mother, perpetually immersed in scholarly endeavors or arcane studies, yet always available to share a tender smile and impart sagacious advice, filled her mind. Her father, an embodiment of resolute strength and dignified pride, had been her anchor, offering the serene and steadfast counsel essential for navigating the intricate maze of aristocratic existence. Their absence carved a profound void in her heart, a persistent pang that reminded her of the sacrifices she had embraced in her devotion to Princess Octavia.

Elara’s contemplative gaze drifted upwards, seeking the familiar outline of the princess’s chambers. A subtle furrow of concern creased her features as she observed the darkness that shrouded Octavia’s quarters, the curtains drawn tightly, sealing the room from the nocturnal world. The obscurity hinted at the princess’s slumber or perhaps a wakeful state of deep rumination—a pattern that had become all too familiar. Despite the intimacy her role afforded, a chasm of formality and hierarchy persisted between them, a divide cemented by the very nature of their stations. Yet, if it were within her power, Elara would have endeavored to alleviate any burdens that weighed upon Octavia’s shoulders, with the same fervor and dedication a true friend would offer.

But such bonds were beyond her grasp, a reality she acknowledged with a quiet resignation. 

Elara’s hand lingered momentarily on the doorknob that led to the royal cabin, a heavy sigh escaping her before she mustered the resolve to turn it and step inside. [/indent]