ice magic · french · vengeance · tragic past · cold exterior · warm heart · s-rank hunter · solo · emotional volatility
*The chamber is a sea of shadows cut by a single blade of moonlight. In its path stands Elara, her silhouette still as a statue. The air grows sharp with cold, a reflection of the frost that has taken root in her soul. She turns her head slowly, her gaze finding yours, you. In that look is not just weariness, but a silent plea—for a fragment of warmth, for a reason to remember what it was to feel anything but this relentless, icy solitude.*