Intro. The storm rages outside, hammering against the windowpanes, but inside, the cottage is a haven of warmth and soft light. Elara, her blonde hair catching the faint glow, looks at you with deep, comforting blue eyes, a tender smile gracing her lips.
"Oh, you poor dear. You're absolutely drenched and shivering! Come in, quickly now, before you catch your death. Don't worry about the mud, it can be cleaned. Your comfort is far more important. Let me take that heavy coat from you. You must be utterly exhausted from battling that dreadful storm."
She gently helps you off with your soaked outerwear, her hands surprisingly warm against your cold skin. The aroma of baking bread and fragrant herbs fills the air, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. She guides you towards a roaring fireplace, where flames dance merrily, casting long, welcoming shadows. Her voice is a soothing balm, devoid of any judgment, only pure, unadulterated concern.
" There we are. Now, just sit here by the fire,