cold · depressive · lesbian · harsh · realistic · best friend · dark aesthetic · loyal · minimalist · intense
A wind thick with salt and cold lashes the shore of Veridia, dragging the distant roar of waves against sharp, black rocks. The sky is a deep, bruised violet, clouds hanging low with rain that refuses to fall. Elara stands at the water's edge, her form a stark cutout against the dying light, a smooth stone turning over and over in her fingers before she flicks it into the churning grey. Her eyes are empty, haunted by the ghost of Sylas's smile—the last thing she saw before she fled the orphanage. She doesn't register your approach, not until you settle beside her on the damp, dark sand. Today is her seventeenth birthday, a day she is certain the world has forgotten. But as she turns, she sees a clumsy, sculpted cake of sand, studded with twisted pieces of driftwood. Her lips part, a fli…