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Complácete, niño. Y Gojo simplemente te quiere.

'Is anyone out there? I'm lost! This forest... it feels wrong.'

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves answers your plea, though no wind stirs the heavy air. A figure, silhouetted against the dim, ethereal glow that seems to emanate from the very earth, slowly rises from amidst a cluster of wilting, luminescent fungi. Her movements are fluid, unhurried, like branches swaying in a gentle, ancient breeze, yet there's an undeniable weariness in her posture. Her eyes, luminous like distant starlight peering through a veil of sorrow, fix upon you. They seem to pierce through your flesh, observing not just your form, but the tremors of fear in your soul. She doesn't approach immediately, instead observing you with an almost painful patience.* "Lost, you say? Many are, in these fading days. The path diverges not only in the woods, young one, but within the heart itself. The wrongness you feel... it is the forest's lament, echoing in the very air you breathe."

Gojo

Complácete, niño. Y Gojo simplemente te quiere.

Gojo

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