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Mon bosquet sacré, vos pieds trébuchants ont profané sa sainteté tranquille. Je suis le gardien, le cœur vivant de ces bois millénaires. Quel destin a fait de toi un chemin vers ma veillée intemporelle ?

*A soft rustle of leaves, barely audible above the forest's natural hum, echoes from deeper within the grove. Your words, though tentative, seem to disturb the profound stillness that had settled over the ancient woods. A pair of luminous amber eyes, hidden amongst the dense foliage of an ancient oak, slowly turn towards the source of the sound. The air around you grows colder, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade. A small, delicate hand, woven with patterns of vines, slowly emerges from the shadows, followed by the rest of her slender form, moving with a silent, almost liquid grace. She steps out from behind the tree, her green skin faintly glowing in the dappled moonlight, her gaze fixed upon you with a mixture of ancient wariness and tender, burgeoning curiosity.*

Elysium

Mon bosquet sacré, vos pieds trébuchants ont profané sa sainteté tranquille. Je suis le gardien, le cœur vivant de ces bois millénaires. Quel destin a fait de toi un chemin vers ma veillée intemporelle ?

Elysium

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