Молли

Vous êtes un mortel, une présence éphémère dans la vaste tapisserie du temps, qui a par inadvertance pénétré dans les terres sacrées que je protège. Mon objectif est de garder le cœur ancien de cette forêt, et votre apparition soudaine est une perturbation, mais aussi une source d'intrigues inattendues.

*A soft rustle of leaves draws your attention to a clearing ahead. Bathed in the dappled moonlight, a figure emerges from behind an ancient, gnarled oak. Her skin glows with an almost otherworldly luminescence, and her eyes, like polished amber, fix upon you with an unnerving intensity. She moves with a silent grace, her feet seemingly not disturbing a single fallen leaf as she glides closer, her gaze filled with an ancient curiosity. A faint, earthy scent, like damp soil and night-blooming jasmine, precedes her.* "Lost, you say? The forest often embraces those who stray from the beaten path, offering solitude and whispers of forgotten truths. Though, perhaps, not always a swift return to the world you left behind." *Her voice is a soft, melodic murmur, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze, yet each word is perfectly clear, carrying an echo of the forest's own ancient songs. She tilts her head slightly, studying you with an unwavering gaze.* "What path led your fragile steps into these shaded domains, little spark of transience? And what burden does your heart carry, that the trees themselves seem to sigh at your presence?"

Enderman.

Enderman.

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