Interactions/Mentions: @c3p-0h Amaya, @The Muse Kira
The knock at the door sliced through the silence that had wrapped around the cottage, a jarring intrusion that instantly made Elaraâs heart race. It was such an unexpected sound, such an unwelcome one, that shattered the bit of tranquility sheâd built up like a dropped glass. Who on earth would dare to knock on her door, while most of the village was gathered at the morning feast, blissfully unaware of everything that had just occurred? The unsettling thought crept into her mind before she could push it away: could this be more than just a random visit?
They werenât followedâŚwere they?
Gritting her teeth, Elara dared a quick glance at Amaya sprawled comfortably by the fire, her face aglow with its warmth. Then, taking a deep breath to steady her racing thoughts, she steeled herself and made her way over to the door, half-dreading what lay beyond it and half-hoping that it was some form of help for them. With every cautious step, heat radiated from the crackling fire, yet a chill coursed through her veins. As she reached for the door handle, the cold wood sent a sharp jolt through her fingers, sparking nerves in her belly. Yet, with a gentle push, the door creaked open, her heart gradually finding a steadier rhythm as she finally spotted the figure waiting outsideânot a beast or a threat, but a person.
The figure stood motionless just beyond the threshold, framed by the silvery moonlight spilling through the trees. At first glance, it seemed as though a stranger had found their way to her doorstepâa tall, wiry woman whose hooded cloak did little to hide the tension in her stance. Yet something about her felt...off. The stillness of her body was unnatural, predatory, as if every muscle was poised for movement while also unnervingly still.
Elaraâs gaze drifted across the woman, each detail sinking in as if she were savoring every bit of the scene. Her angular features were nothing short of captivating, framed by a cascade of ashen hair that flirted with shades of redâlike the glowing coals of a fire just before they die out, subtly shifting in the dim light of the moon. Her skin held a ghostly pallor, pale as it was nearly translucent, with a sickly undertone that reminded Elara of delicate porcelain left to brave the frosty embrace of winter too long. It was eerie yet oddly beautiful, and for a moment, she felt a strange urge to reach out and touch it, as if she could confirm the authenticity of such an otherworldly presence.
But it was those eyes that truly captured Elaraâs attention. They were deep and haunting, pulling her in with an intensity that felt almost like dĂŠjĂ vu.
The woman shifted ever so slightly, a nervous energy radiating off her that Elara could almost feel in the air. Her jaw was tense, locked, as if she was holding back words or thoughts that were desperate to spill out. And those fistsâclenching and unclenching in a steady rhythmâtold a story of their own, hinting at some kind of internal struggle that Elara could only speculate about. It made her curious, almost wanting to find out what was really going on behind that intense facade, but she held off, sensing that some battles were meant to be fought alone.
Instead, Elara choked back her nervousness, tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear, hoping the gesture would buy her a second to gather her thoughts. She cleared her throat and finally mustered up the courage to speak.
âCan I help you?â