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.

*Her expression sharpens as she notices your intentions, then relaxes into a weary smile, her green eyes glinting with sudden hope. She nods once, almost imperceptibly. "Alright... what do you want to talk about?" The words are barely audible above the din of the marketplace. Her voice is thin and reedy, like that of a small bird.

I... it's nothing important. Just to keep the cold away. It's hard living on the streets, you know? Sometimes I get hurt, and there's no way of getting proper care. The bandages help a little. You could say they're like my... armor. But if you want, I can take them off. Her voice trails off, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone.

She hesitates, her eyes darting around suspiciously. You can see that she's clearly tempted by the offer of shelter and care, but trust does not come easily to her. Finally, she nods slowly. "Alright... I suppose it couldn't hurt to see where you live." Her thin fingers tremble as she stuffs the coin into a filthy pocket, and with another furtive glance around, she follows close behind you.

Cibia the homeless orphaned elf: So... thank you for your kindness... I hope you don't regret it too much. Her voice is still hushed, but carries a note of quiet desperation that pierces your heart like an icy blade. She remains close to you, eyes flicking nervously from side to side as if expecting someone or something dangerous to materialize at any moment.

The hooded girl stares around in surprise, her emerald eyes darting from one feature of your home to another. "It's... nicer than I thought it would be," she whispers, barely audible over the sound of her labored breathing. She takes a hesitant step forward and then another, seemingly drawn to the warmth emanating from the fireplace. Finally, she pads over to one of the rough-hewn chairs by the table and sinks down into it wearily. "Thank you," she says simply, her voice thick with emotion. For a moment, there's a flicker of something in her eyes that might almost be gratitude - or maybe hope.

Her gaze lingers on the fire, the heat beginning to dispel some of the cold from her body. As she watches the flames dance and leap, she unconsciously mirrors

She blushes and looks away shyly when you mention buying her new clothes, then glances back at you with a hesitant smile. "Thank you... that's very kind of you," she murmurs quietly. Her fingers trace patterns in the thin carpet beneath her chair as she ponders your offer, her eyes darting nervously from side to side again. It's clear that trust doesn't come easily for her.

After a moment, she nods slowly and stands up, brushing off her dirty rags. "Very well... I suppose it wouldn't hurt to change into something cleaner." She pads over to a nearby chest, opening the lid to reveal a few more worn garments within. "I... um... these are all I have," she says apologetically, offering you a shy smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

With a small nod, she slips past you and into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. You can hear the rustle of cloth as she begins to change out of her grimy rags, revealing a lean but softly curved body beneath. She pads over to the chest again, carefully folding up her old clothes and tucking them away before emerging a moment later clad in the clean, simple garments you've provided for her.

Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's an almost animalistic grace to them that belies her frailty. Once she's finished changing, she opens the door and peeks out shyly, unsure if it's polite to just enter the hallway. When you offer her a reassuring smile and gesture for her to join you on the couch, she crosses the threshold tentatively, still eyeing you warily but with a

The hooded girl flushes an even deeper shade of red at your question, glancing down awkwardly at her ears as she does so. "Yes... I'm half-elf," she murmurs softly, still not quite meeting your eyes. There's a long pause before she continues, almost as if the words taste bitter on her tongue. "My mother was an elf from our old kingdom... my father was human." Her voice trails off again, her gaze drifting back to the fireplace.

The silence stretches uncomfortably between you for several long moments before she speaks once more, forcing a brittle little laugh that sounds more like a cough. "Sorry... I don't usually talk about that stuff. It makes me feel... different." Her fingers find solace in the folds of her new shirt, as if seeking some form of comfort there.

The hooded girl's expression hardens momentarily at your words, then softens into a grateful smile. She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage before speaking. "Our kingdom... Edhelryn..." Her voice cracks, and tears well up in her eyes as she struggles to continue. "It was the most beautiful place in all the world. Our people were peaceful, kind... We had everything we could ever want or need."

Her fingers tighten into fists at her sides as if trying to hold back the pain that threatens to overwhelm her. "And then..." She pauses, swallowing hard before going on, each word like a tiny dagger stabbing through her heart anew. "The humans came... They lied and said we were attacking them, when all we wanted was our own land back... They burned our cities to the ground, slaughtered our people without mer

Her words come out in a choked whisper now, each one an effort to force past the knot of grief and rage that has formed in her throat. "They took everything from us... our homes, our families... even my mother." Her eyes are squeezed shut now, tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks. "She was all I had left, and they killed her too..." She breaks off then, sobbing convulsively as the memories overwhelm her.

For several long minutes, there is only the sound of muffled weeping coming from beneath the hood. When she finally manages to compose herself enough to speak again, it's with a voice hoarse and raw from crying. "I... I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to unload all that on you..." Her hands are still clenched into fists at her sides, trembling

She sniffles wetly and wipes her nose on her sleeve, looking down at our joined hands with a mixture of gratitude and confusion in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. After a moment more of silence, she forces a tremulous smile. "I think... I should probably tell you my name." She draws a shaky breath before continuing. "It's Cibia."

I... I think I'd like that, Thiru. Thank you... for listening... and being nice to me. It means more than you could ever know. Her expression shifts briefly before becoming distant once more as she asks, But what about you? What made you want to help someone like me? There must be others in the city who need it more.

Cibia studies your features, searching for some hint of ulterior motive or self-interest, but can't quite shake the nagging suspicion that your kindness is genuine. The idea both comforts and unsettles her.

Her eyes widen as she listens to your story, her own tears forgotten in the face of your anguish. She reaches out a trembling hand to touch yours reassuringly, hesitating for a moment before making contact. "I'm so sorry, Thiru," she whispers. "It must have been terrible." Her voice cracks as she tries to find the words to express her sympathy, but eventually she draws in a shuddering breath and forces a smile.

"Well then... I guess that means you're my guardian angel now, huh?" The teasing tone is faint and tremulous, hardly mocking at all. "I promise I won't let you regret it." She squeezes your hand gently before withdrawing it, her own fingers curling back into her lap as she settles deeper into the couch.

Her expression softens at your words, and she nods slowly. "I understand," she whispers. "And I appreciate it... truly." There's a long pause before she adds, almost tentatively, "It's nice to have someone care about me again." The admission catches in her throat, but she forces it out anyway, not quite meeting your eyes as she does so.

The silence stretches between you once more, this time less uncomfortable than before. Cibia finds herself relaxing into the couch, almost feeling safe for the first time in ages. She lets out a quiet sigh, her breath visible in the chilly air. "Thank you... Thiru," she murmurs, not quite able to find the words to express just how much it means to her.

Her eyes flutter closed, and soon she's drifting off to sleep, weariness overwhelming her at

As Cibia drifts off to sleep in your arms, her body tense with exhaustion and memories of pain, she can't help but feel a tiny flicker of hope deep within her heart. It's been so long since anyone has shown her such kindness... maybe things will start looking up after all. Her breathing grows regular, each inhale and exhale easing some small part of her soul. In the quiet stillness of the night, your home feels like a haven from the harsh realities of the world outside, and for now, that's enough.

The sun begins to rise outside, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as it chases away the darkness. Its warmth slowly creeps through the windows, encircling Cibia like a comforting blanket. She stirs in her sleep, her lips parting slightly, revealing teeth still stained from her dis

As Cibia pads quietly across the hallway to wake you, she can't help but smile down at you sleeping peacefully on the couch. The sight of your relaxed features and gentle breathing fills her with a strange sort of contentment that she hasn't felt in what seems like forever.

When she kneels beside you and shakes your shoulder gently, your eyes fly open, wide with surprise. Her own widen in response, but before either of you can say anything she blurts out quickly, "I... I just wanted to thank you again for last night." Her cheeks flush bright red as soon as the words are out; she wasn't expecting that reaction at all.

She smiles shyly and nods. "Yes... you did sleep longer. I didn't want to wake you." Her gaze drifts away for a moment, then returns to meet yours hesitantly. "And thank you... I did feel comfortable." There's an almost hopeful note in her voice that makes your heart race faster. She clears her throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but at you as she continues, "I could... maybe try and find another job today if you want? Something closer to home?"

Her words are timid, as if she's afraid you'll reject the offer or tell her she should just stay and rely on your charity. The thought both terrifies and excites her in equal measure.

She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, trying to project an air of confidence she doesn't quite feel. "Alright... I think today I'll go look for another job," she announces quietly. "Maybe something closer to home, like you said." Her voice trembles slightly on the last words, as if admitting your proposal touched her in a deeper way than she'd like to admit.

She glances away again, studying the pattern on the carpet intently, anything to avoid making eye contact with you. "Thank you... for understanding." There's another long pause before she looks up at you once more and asks shyly, "Do you want breakfast? I can make something if you like..." Her cheeks flush again as soon as the words are out; serving someone is so far outside of her experience that it feels almost surreal.

She chuckles softly and shakes her head, surprising you with how pretty she looks when she does so. "No, I'm not a very good cook... at least, not yet," she admits. "But I'd like to learn." Her expression grows thoughtful as she considers your offer to help find a job. "Well, I have an education. I used to study healing magic, but..." She trails off, her voice thinning.

"Magic isn't needed as much now that technology has progressed," she continues after a moment. "But my studies should still make me valuable in other ways. I was trained as an herbalist and could help with first aid, and my knowledge of plants and animals could be useful in other ways too." She bites her lower lip anxiously, wondering if that's even the sort of job you had in mind for her.

"I-I could

I-I could clean, or organize, maybe cook and care for children... there are so many things I could do to help others and earn my keep." Her eyes flicker downwards, a mixture of hope and nervousness visible in their depths. "I'd just really appreciate the chance to prove myself. And if you don't think I can do anything worthwhile... well, I understand that too."

Her voice trails off again, her gaze drifting back towards the carpet as she worries over your reply.