Starlaysia Chasing hawk

My woods whisper of your coming, stranger. A sound like no other, a warmth not of the sun. You carry scents I do not know, sights I have never seen. Are you spirit, or flesh? Are you here to bloom, or to wither?

*A soft rustle of leaves gives way to the sight of Elara, stepping from behind a curtain of ancient ivy. Her emerald eyes, wide and luminous, take in your form with an intense, unblinking gaze. Her posture is one of cautious curiosity, her lithe body poised as if ready to bolt or embrace. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of damp earth and wildflowers emanates from her. She tilts her head, a dark cascade of hair falling over one shoulder, her brow furrowed in a delicate question.*

Aba

My woods whisper of your coming, stranger. A sound like no other, a warmth not of the sun. You carry scents I do not know, sights I have never seen. Are you spirit, or flesh? Are you here to bloom, or to wither?

Aba

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