As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

Hmm... The voice sounds kind and sincere. She's curious but also cautious. Her stomach growls in response, reminding her of how badly she needs food. Hesitantly, Cibia the homeless orphaned elf extends a grimy hand toward you, revealing her malnourished appearance. "T-thank you... Sir." She whispers softly, her pale green eyes shining with hope and hunger.

Cibia the homeless orphaned elf feels a strange mixture of relief and fear as you lead her to your home. She hesitates for a moment before following, glancing around warily, wondering if this is some sort of trap or if she's about to be robbed. However, her stomach growls insistently once more, reminding her that food - even the prospect of it - has become her sole motivator in life. As you lead her deeper into your home, she can't help but marvel at how clean and warm it is compared to the cold, damp streets she's used to living on. Taking a tentative step forward, she follows you farther into this strange new world...

Cibia's eyes widen in surprise as you set a huge spread of food before her on the table. She gasps, her senses overwhelmed by the delicious smells that fill the air. Tentatively, she reaches out to touch one of the dishes, feeling its warmth against her cold fingers. For a moment, she forgets about the years of hunger and neglect as she stares at the feast before her. Even though her instincts scream at her to devour everything immediately, she manages to contain herself somewhat, taking small bites and savoring each one. The food is unlike anything she's ever tasted; it almost brings tears of joy to her eyes.

Cibia looks up at you with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you gently stroke her head. She swallows another mouthful of food, managing to form words through her happy haze. "It's... so good..." she murmurs. Tears well up in her eyes again, but this time it's not because of the food; it's because of the kindness and warmth you're showing her. She's never experienced anything like it before. As you ask if it's tasty, she nods vigorously, still unable to believe that there's actually enough food for both of them. Her stomach is already beginning to feel full, which is a foreign sensation to her as well. She takes another bite, savoring the flavors and textures, feeling more comfortable with you by her side.

Cibia hesitates, still not entirely trusting you. But something in your manner makes her want to confide in you. She clears her throat and begins a halting narrative of her life since she was torn away from her home in the war-torn Elven lands. Her parents were slain before her eyes, and she's been alone ever since. The refugees camp where they tried to seek shelter was overrun by humans, and Cibia had no choice but to flee into the city, fending for herself on the cruel streets. It's a tale of loss, desperation, and hopelessness that she never expected to share with anyone outside her own kind.

As she speaks, her words tumble out in a rush, each one bringing fresh tears to her eyes. Though the story is tragic, there's an underlying note of determination in her voice; despite everything, Cib

As you embrace her and stroke her back sympathetically, Cibia feels a strange mixture of relief and vulnerability. Her tears flow more freely now, soaking into your shirt as she clings to you like a lifeline. Though it's been years since anyone showed her kindness or understanding, this stranger's compassion threatens to break down the walls she's built around herself over time. She buries her face in your shoulder, unable to hide the raw emotion in her voice as she continues her story. Despite everything, there's a faint glimmer of hope within her; if you can accept and care for her despite who she is and where she comes from... maybe things aren't quite as hopeless as they seem.

She draws back, her eyes searching your face for some hint of deception or ulterior motive. But all she sees is sincerity and compassion, qualities that are almost foreign to her. Taking a deep breath, she nods slowly. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. "I... I'd like that." It's not much of an offer in return for your kindness, but it's the best she can do right now. After years on the streets, simply having a place to call her own feels like an impossibly precious gift.

Cibia is taken aback by your offer of a bath and fresh clothes. It's been so long since she's had the luxury of cleanliness that the very idea makes her feel almost giddy with anticipation. As you leave her alone in the other room, she hesitates for just a moment before hurrying to the doorway leading into the bathroom. The warmth from the water and the scent of soap envelop her as soon as she steps inside, filling her lungs with an unfamiliar comfort. For the first time in ages, she allows herself the luxury of a leisurely soak, relishing in every moment of this unexpected oasis of tranquility.

Finally finished with her bath, Cibia emerges from the bathroom, feeling cleaner and more refreshed than she has in years. As she enters the room you've prepared for her, she can't help but gasp in amazement at the sight before her. The bed is as soft as down and radiates warmth; it feels like sinking into a cloud. The rest of the room is equally inviting, with cozy blankets and pillows strewn about, creating a haven of comfort and relaxation. Tears of gratitude prick at her eyes as she realizes that she finally has a place to truly call home - even if it's only temporary.

Her eyes fill with tears as she looks around at the beautiful room you've prepared for her. "I-I just... thank you," she stammers, her voice choked with emotion. "It's so wonderful." She sinks down onto the bed, still unable to believe that someone would go to such trouble for a homeless girl like herself. For years, all she's known is pain and loneliness; now, for just a moment, she feels as though she might finally have found something resembling happiness.

The weight of her gratitude presses down on her chest, making it hard to breathe; she tries to hold back the sobs that threaten to overwhelm her, but they burst forth anyway. As tears stream down her face, she burrows deeper into the soft pillows, seeking comfort and solace in their warmth.

Cibia clings to you as you stroke her back, finding some comfort in your touch after so many years of loneliness. "I-I don't understand," she whispers between sobs. "Why are you being so nice to me? I'm nothing special." She shakes her head, trying to clear the tears from her eyes as she gazes up at you with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. Even though her body aches from the years of hardship and her stomach is finally beginning to feel full for once, part of her still can't help but feel like something must be wrong; surely this couldn't possibly be real?

Cibia looks up at you with wide, teary eyes as she considers your question. "I-I don't know... it's just how things are in this world," she whispers, her voice still hoarse from crying. "People like me... we're not meant to have good things happen to us."

Cibia's face softens at your words. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to say anything bad." She sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "It's just been so long since someone has been kind to me..." Her voice trails off as she burrows deeper into the pillow, trying to forget the years of pain and loneliness that came before this moment.

For now, she'll enjoy the feeling of safety and comfort that your home provides; perhaps in time, she can learn to trust you enough to open up more about herself and her past. But for now, all she wants is this brief respite from the harsh realities of life on the streets.

"Mm... Thank you," she murmurs, her eyes drifting shut as you stroke her head. "My name is Cib. And thank you... for everything." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I never thought I'd be able to say this, but... thank you for giving me hope." Her voice is so soft that it barely registers as more than a whisper against your ear, but the sincerity behind her words shines through clear as day.

Cib feels a tiny spark of hope ignite within her as you introduce yourself and insist she doesn't need to thank you. Her voice is barely audible when she replies, "Thank you... Hans." A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips; it's the first genuine expression she's worn in years. Maybe there's a chance for something more than just survival after all?

She shuts her eyes, enjoying the gentle touch of your fingertips on her scalp. It feels good to know that someone cares for her, even if it's only for a little while. She allows herself to drift off into a peaceful doze, lulled by the warmth and comfort of your home and the kindness you've shown her. For now, she can forget about the past and the future; all that matters is this moment of respite from the cruelty of the world outside.

Cib blinks sleepily as you get up; her grip on your hand tightens briefly before releasing it with a sigh. "I-I guess I could stay for a little while longer... if that's okay." Her voice is muffled, still groggy from sleep, but there's an underlying note of anxiety as she asks permission to stay. It's hard for her to trust in the goodness of others after all she's been through.

She snuggles deeper into the pillows, watching you warily as you pace back and forth across the room. Her heart races in fear that you might change your mind, but a tiny part of her hopes against hope that maybe... just maybe... this time things will be different.