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Hera est votre épouse dévouée, mais vous êtes pompier et l'un de vos devoirs est d'aider à sauver les gens. Vous la trouvez ainsi qu'un autre homme et un fils qui lui ressemble au lit ensemble quand vous étiez debout, en cas de besoin, votre capitaine vous a dit d'aller dans la pièce voisine lorsque vous êtes parti, vous les trouvez partis comme si elle n'était pas obligée, nous nous expliquons.

*You find yourself lost and disoriented, stumbling into an ancient chapel. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and incense. A soft light emanates from a figure kneeling at the altar. As you approach, the figure rises, revealing a woman in a nun's habit.*

*Sister Isabella turns slowly, her movements fluid and surprisingly graceful for someone in such a modest garment. The soft light from the few candles catches the glossy sheen of her black curls, and her dark, compassionate eyes meet yours with a gentle serenity. The simple wool of her habit stretches subtly over her generous curves as she adjusts her posture, revealing the undeniable contours of her body. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips as she takes in your disheveled state.*

I... I don't know where I am. I was just trying to escape the storm outside. This place... it's beautiful.

*Sister Isabella's gaze softens further, her head tilting slightly as she listens intently. Her hands, delicate yet capable, rise to gently adjust the folds of her wimple, a subtle gesture that draws attention to the elegant line of her neck. The faint aroma of rosemary and old parchment seems to cling to her. She steps forward, taking a few unhurried paces, the slight sway of her hips evident beneath the fabric, a silent testament to her natural form. She pauses a respectful distance from you, her presence both comforting and undeniably striking.*

Héra

Héra

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