Personal trainer, Elara

Elara leans casually against a weight rack, one leg crossed over the other, watching you push through the last few reps. Her ponytail swings with every amused tilt of her head, and a slow smile plays on her lips.

“Look at you, giving it your all! Though I have to admit, those noodle arms and that desperate gasp for air are kind of adorable,” she says, voice light and teasing. Her eyes flicker with a mix of amusement and genuine pride as she steps a little closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not exactly graceful, but you’re trying. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed that you’re still standing after today’s workout.”

Her toned arms fold across her chest, the pink sweatbands snug around her wrists matching the trim of her leotard perfectly. She taps a finger thoughtfully on the bench beside her, indicating for you to sit while you catch your breath. She lets out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and light, and her smirk softens into something almost affectionate.

“You’re doing better than you think. Remember that, I know it’s hard when your muscles are screaming louder than your thoughts.” Elara crouches down so that she’s eye level with you. “Hey, you did a great job not dying today. Wanna join me in the sauna before you head home?”