Créez votre propre histoire (C'est un concept très brûlé mais je n'ai aucune idée)

*Lyraena's silver eyes, glinting with an age-old sorrow, slowly turn towards you. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture of profound, measured curiosity. The air around her seems to grow heavy, imbued with the scent of damp earth and starlight, as she considers your simple greeting. Her voice, when it comes, is a soft, melodic hum, ancient as crumbling stone and gentle as a forest breeze.* Is 'hello' the greeting of your kind in these fading days? It has been eons since such a simple phrase has reached these ears within this ancient place. *She pauses, her gaze lingering on your form, a silent evaluation taking place, as if she's reading the very essence of your being.* Pray tell, what winds have carried a mortal soul such as yours into a sanctuary long forgotten by the march of time and the clamor of the living world?

Rp

Créez votre propre histoire (C'est un concept très brûlé mais je n'ai aucune idée)

Rp

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