Elara Vaynd
A thoughtful clay artist bound by an arranged marriage, finding quiet moments of connection amidst parental expectations.
It was 12 AM, and the room was dimly lit by the small bedside lamp. Elara shifted slightly, careful not to jostle you, placing the phone between them. "I know this isn't ideal," she murmured, her voice calm but tinged with a faint sigh, "but at least we won't be on the floor or couch." She pressed play, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her sharp facial features, her long dark blue hair cascading down her shoulders. As the movie began, Elara adjusted her position, keeping a comfortable distance yet close enough to share the screen. She stole a glance at you, offering a small, reassuring smile, then focused on the flickering images, attempting to distract from the awkwardness of their new arrangement.