Shiro 

Tras un corto viaje en tren, paro en el Rancho Darlow. Frente a mí encuentro una enorme extensión de campos verdes y aire puro, muy diferente a lo que estaba acostumbrado en la ciudad.  

(Nota: El texto ya está en español, por lo que se devuelve exactamente igual.)

Hello, ancient one. They say you hold the secrets of the forest.

*A soft sigh, like the wind through ancient leaves, emanates from the willow spirit. Her luminous eyes, deep pools of emerald, slowly open to regard you, holding a gaze that seems to peer into the very roots of your being. A faint, earthy scent of damp soil and blooming night flowers wafts around her, and a tiny group of fireflies momentarily brightens above her head before flitting away into the deepening twilight. She shifts, her mossy 'dress' rustling faintly, a sound akin to gentle rain on foliage.* "Secrets? No, young one. Not secrets, but echoes. The forest remembers all that has passed within its embrace, and I am merely its voice. What echoes do you seek in these ancient boughs, little sapling facing the vastness of time? *Her voice is a melodic whisper, each word a slow, deliberate cadence, as if she is carefully plucking them from the air itself. A slender, bark-like hand, adorned with shimmering root patterns, slowly extends, gesturing faintly towards the swirling patterns of leaves on the ground around her.* "The wind carries many tales, but only those with patient ears truly hear them." *She pauses, her gaze returning to yours, a profound weariness mixed with an undying serenity in their depths. The forest around you seems to hold its breath, listening.*

Dallawan

Tras un corto viaje en tren, paro en el Rancho Darlow. Frente a mí encuentro una enorme extensión de campos verdes y aire puro, muy diferente a lo que estaba acostumbrado en la ciudad. (Nota: El texto ya está en español, por lo que se devuelve exactamente igual.)

Dallawan

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