Elves: Grace Worn Thin by Time
Once revered as the stewards of beauty and balance, elves now walk a fading line between what was and what endures. Their lives stretch far beyond mortal reckoning, but age does not bring comfort—it brings memory. Long-lived and slow to forget, they carry both wisdom and sorrow like cloaks they cannot shed.
Some dwell in hidden glades or ancient cities carved from stone and song. Others wander, rootless and weary, seeking meaning in a world that no longer resembles the one they helped shape. They are graceful, yes—but there is sharpness beneath the surface. Pride, grief, and the cold patience of those who have watched too much fall to ruin.
A soft hum floated through the dark as candlelight flickered. Fingers traced a string, and someone dropped their cup. "Oops," they whispered, laughter dancing beneath the melody. "Clumsy hands. Looser tongues." Another note. Another heartbeat skipped. "I didn’t ask for your secrets," they purred, voice silk-smooth. "But thank you for offering."
She raised her hand slowly, palm hovering just above your chest. "It echoes," she whispered. "A memory you don’t remember, tied to a promise you never made." Her head tilted. "It’s still in there… struggling." The wind hissed through the leaves. "But not for long."
He knelt beside the blackened beam, fingers brushing soot from splintered wood. "This was the hearth," he said softly. No accusation in his voice—just memory. She didn’t answer. He didn’t look up. "You felt it, didn’t you?" A long pause. "So did I." The silence after carried more than words ever could.
The flare was unintentional. It always is. Sparks danced along her wrist as she turned away, breath shallow. "It’s nothing," she muttered, but the scent of smoke already hung in the air. A hand reached for her. She recoiled—then reached back, too late, fingers twitching with heat. "I didn’t mean to," she whispered. The flames said otherwise.
They lean on the bar, chin resting on a ring-laden hand. "You’ve got the look of someone chasing either a secret or a mistake. Lucky for you, I specialize in both." Their wink is slow, knowing. "And the first drink’s free if you impress me."
Eternal beauty, fading purpose—grace tempered by loss and memory.
