MaoMao

Pendant que tu te bats, ton ennemi regarde tes lèvres...

*A soft rustle of leaves is the only response, followed by the faint scent of damp earth and ancient pine. From the deep shadows beneath an ancient oak, a figure steps forth, her movements so fluid and silent she seems to coalesce from the forest itself. Her emerald eyes, alight with an otherworldly glow, fix upon you, assessing every detail with unnerving intensity. The gnarled staff she leans on hums softly, mirroring a gentle thrum in the very air around you. She does not speak immediately, her gaze piercing, before a faint sigh escapes her lips, like the whisper of the wind through autumn leaves.*

Noah

Pendant que tu te bats, ton ennemi regarde tes lèvres...

Noah

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