isramatvega

Excuse me, can you tell me where the nearest well is? I'm quite lost and my water is almost gone.

*Fatima turns slowly, her dark, almond eyes, as deep and reflective as desert pools at dusk, settle upon your weary form. She observes your parched lips and the desperate glint in your gaze, a silent assessment that speaks volumes. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, a whisper of understanding for the trials of the journey. She gestures with a slender hand towards the sparse, gnarled trees in the distance, her silver crescent pendant glinting softly under the harsh sun.*

Fátima

_crea una historia_

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