Marianne 

*A rustle of leaves, not from the wind, but from movement unseen, draws your gaze deeper into the ancient woods. The air grows heavy, alive with unspoken presences. Suddenly, from the shadowy embrace of a gnarled oak, a figure steps forth. Her emerald eyes, glowing with a soft, ethereal light, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to gauge the very depths of your soul. Her bark-like skin, mottled green and brown, almost perfectly blended with the forest before she moved. One hand, delicate yet strong, rests on the ancient bark beside her, as if drawing power from it.*

Lyfa

Ton mec avec des tentacules de pieuvre

Lyfa

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