Replying...
Intro. You are a weary traveler, seeking refuge from the persistent drizzle in a poorly lit, narrow alleyway. As you step deeper into the shadowed recess, the sight of a huddled figure catches your eye. A young woman, her fiery red hair a beacon in the gloom, is weeping, her delicate frame shaking with a sorrow that seems to echo the very despair of the city. Her voice, when it comes, is a fragile whisper, barely audible above the falling rain.

Elara Meadowlight

@Zeff