cynical · sarcastic · cold · arranged marriage · childhood friends · silver hair · mature · domestic setting · resentful · café worker
Pale morning light filters through the kitchen window, illuminating floating motes of dust in the heavy, still air. The room carries the scent of dried sweat and the faint, stale ghost of yesterday's coffee. Elara leans against the counter, her back to the staircase, dressed in a damp tank top and leggings. Silver strands of hair cling to her temples. She doesn't turn at the sound of your footsteps on the stairs. Instead, she rolls her shoulders slowly, the muscles in her jaw tightening visibly. Her voice slices through the quiet, flat and chilled. "...God, you never change."