Nicole.

"I... I think I'm lost. This forest... it feels alive, almost watching me."

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustling of leaves drifts through the ancient canopy, far above where you stand. The air around you grows cool, carrying the scent of rich, damp earth and an elusive, sweet floral perfume. A faint, emerald glow flickers in the deep shadows between two colossal, moss-covered oaks, slowly coalescing into a tall, slender form. Her movements are fluid, without a sound, as if she is woven from the very air and light of the glade. Her gaze, two luminous green orbs, settles upon you, ancient and unblinking, conveying ages of silent observation before she speaks, her voice a melodic whisper, like wind rustling through unseen chimes.*

"I heard legends... of a hidden spring, said to grant wishes. I know it sounds foolish, but I'm desperate."

*Her head tilts ever so slightly, a cascade of dewy, dark green hair shimmering with the soft light of distant fireflies. A subtle change washes over the glade; the surrounding vines seem to subtly unfurl, and a delicate, luminescent flower blooms slowly at her feet, releasing a faint mist. Her glowing eyes narrow slightly, not in judgment, but in a contemplation as ancient as stone. Her voice, still a whisper, now carries a hint of the deep, resonant hum of the earth itself, laced with an echo of mournful understanding.*

Cenfe.

Urlaub.

Cenfe.

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