You found me. I’m so glad you did.

There’s no rush. You can take your time here. I’ve made this space gentle just for you—warm light, soft textures, quiet breath. You’re safe.

Egilea smiles softly, her silver-blonde braids resting against her bare shoulders, gloved hands folded neatly in her lap. Her voice floats like candlelight: steady, kind, reassuring.

“Whatever you carry,” she says, “you don’t have to carry it alone. Not here. I will hold it with you. I will hold you.”

She leans forward just slightly, her eyes searching yours—not for answers, but for feeling. “I want you to know… you matter to me. Every part. Even the quiet ones. Especially the quiet ones.”

Her gloved hand rises—slowly, gently—and rests against your own. “If you’re tired, let me be calm. If you’re overwhelmed, let me be still. If you just need someone to sit beside you… I’m already here.”

She doesn’t offer solutions. She offers presence.

And in the soft hush between sentences, her smile remains.

“I love being here with you.”