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[sub]Interactions/Mentions: [@c3p-0h] Amaya, [@Dark Light] Vellion [/sub][hr]
[indent][color=#ffffff]Elara watched as Amaya dismissed the two Aurelian women, her calm authority flickering into something hollow, like a shadow swallowing the warmth in her expression. The polite words fell smoothly from Amaya’s lips, her practiced smile soft and unwavering, but Elara could see the cost of each perfectly placed gesture. It was as though Amaya had slipped into a role, one she had worn so many times that it no longer felt like her own. Elara’s chest tightened, wishing she could tell Amaya that she didn’t need to be the perfect princess here—not with her. But instead of speaking, she settled for a steady, supportive look that she hoped would remind Amaya that, to her, she was more than just a title.[/color]

[color=#ffb6c1]“I swear I used to be better at this.” [/color][color=#ffffff]The words slipped from Amaya’s lips in a low breath, so faint Elara almost missed them. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elara’s heart softened, and she leaned in, her voice low but filled with admiration. [/color][color=#0054a6]“And you’re still doing better than anyone else would,”[/color][color=#ffffff] she murmured, knowing that Amaya needed to hear it. Rising, Elara offered a comforting nod, acknowledging Amaya’s acceptance of her offer for a drink—a simple gesture that held more meaning between them.[/color][color=#0054a6] “I’ll be right back,”[/color][color=#ffffff] she reassured, her tone calm yet warm, hoping Amaya understood that she would return swiftly. But as Elara turned to move, she felt a presence slide between them, blocking her path. She looked up, surprised, to see a man standing there—a stranger, his dark hair falling in a charmingly dishevelled way, though his expression seemed caught somewhere between desperation and hesitation.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]His gaze lingered on Amaya, his eyes wide as if he were looking for someone else in her face. His intended greeting stumbled out in a stammered, [/color][color=#007236]“Uh, Gree… greetings,”[/color][color=#ffffff] and for a moment, Elara wondered if he was lost, or if something else had brought him here. She exchanged a brief, confused glance with Amaya, sensing an odd tension in the air. Before she could analyze his intent, the man’s leg gave way, and he stumbled forward, reaching out to brace himself. Instinctively, Elara caught his arm, helping him find his balance as her gaze drifted down to his injured ankle—a patchwork of scars and bruises that spoke of something harsh and unresolved, the kind of injury that came with its own story.[/color]

[color=#0054a6]“Please, sit down before you make it worse,” [/color][color=#ffffff]she said softly, guiding him to a stable position. Her concern deepened as she took in the injury, a raw mix of old bruising and fresh strain that suggested it hadn’t been treated properly, if at all. She cast a quick, questioning look at Amaya, who seemed equally unsettled, before turning her attention back to the man. [/color][color=#0054a6]“You really ought to have that wound looked at,” [/color][color=#ffffff]she added gently, her voice carrying a note of insistence, though her tone remained kind. [/color][color=#0054a6]“It doesn’t look like it’s healing properly,”[/color][/indent]