[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/660ZHgx8/Elara-Moonshadow.png[/img][/center]
[sub]Interactions/Mentions: [@c3p-0h] Amaya, [@The Muse] Kira [/sub][hr]
[indent][color=#ffffff]Elara clenched the doorframe more firmly, feeling the woman’s words envelop her like a soft, yet heavy blanket. [/color][color=#dc561e]“We’ve met before.”[/color][color=#ffffff] This declaration lingered in the chilly atmosphere around them, seemingly harmless but sown deep with an underlying current of mystery that stirred something within the handmaiden. As she gazed into Kira’s bright, orange eyes, a tension coiled tightly in her chest, intensifying as she struggled to connect the stranger’s vivid features to the faint echo of a long-buried memory.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Suddenly, this memory sprang to life in her mind, uninvited yet vivid. Though it was blurred and faded by the passage of time, the warmth it brought was unmistakable. She envisioned a tiny, pale hand—her own—stretching out to grasp another. This second hand was rough, trembling slightly, and dusted with freckles; its hold was tentative but fiercely intent. “[color=royalblue][i]Everything will be okay,[/i][/color]” she had murmured, her voice calm even as doubt gnawed at her insides. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]The fleeting moment felt like a ray of sunshine piercing through dark, stormy skies, only to be obscured once more. As Elara blinked, her mind returned to the present, focusing on the woman in front of her. Could this person possibly be the same? The sharp angles of her face, the intense, fiery eyes, and the tautness of her body didn’t resemble the frightened girl from her past. Yet, there was a deep-seated sorrow in Kira’s gaze that struck a chord with her, reminiscent of a long-forgotten melody that tugged at her heartstrings.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elara shook her head as if to erase the thought, hoping to brush away the notion that their connection was anything but chance. After all, how many lives had intersected with hers during her time in the palace? Memories could easily fade, and it was common to impose significance where perhaps none existed. The striking similarity was probably just that—a simple likeness. The woman standing in front of her appeared too fierce, too deeply emotional, to be the same person she'd once comforted with soft words so many years ago.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Despite her efforts to push the thoughts away, uncertainty hung around her like one of her shadows, nibbling at the corners of her refusal. Her eyes darted momentarily to Kira's lips, where a slight quiver was visible, before returning to those compelling eyes that held a world of emotions. Elara noticed the delicate fractures in Kira's facade, the tiny spark of melancholy that flickered behind her strong exterior—though the reasons behind these feelings eluded her grasp. As the pressure in her chest intensified, she took a deep breath and willed herself to break the silence.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“[color=royalblue]I see,[/color]” Elara said carefully, her voice measured, as though testing the weight of her own words. “[color=royalblue]The Princess and I are safe. That is all that matters right now.[/color]” She held Kira’s piercing orange gaze a second longer, looking for any hint of her intentions. As she shifted her weight, moving slightly more into the doorway, she established a silent barrier between the stranger and the comforting warmth of the cottage behind her. This instinct to protect felt as instinctive as breathing itself, especially with Amaya so defenseless inside. Yet, if Kira genuinely wanted to help, perhaps there was a way to utilize her presence without fully welcoming her into her home.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“[color=royalblue]If your offer to help is heartfelt,[/color]” Elara began, her voice soft but laced with cautious diplomacy, “[color=royalblue]maybe you could relay a message to Prince Flynn. Please inform him of where we are and how the Princess is doing. Let him know she is on the mend but will require time and rest to fully recover.[/color]” The words felt heavy on her tongue, and she couldn’t suppress the faint tension in her jaw as she said his name. Though Flynn had every right to know, Elara still felt an inexplicable discomfort entrusting him with too much. Or at all. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]“[color=royalblue]If you are sincere, then that would be the most immediate assistance you could provide.[/color]” The statement carried an edge of finality, a polite dismissal wrapped in the guise of practicality. [/color][/indent]