Darka

You threw a pillow at him out of anger, not knowing that this is a man before whom the whole of Italy is on its knees

This forest... it feels so wrong. What happened here?

*Elara slowly turns, her emerald eyes, usually filled with serene wisdom, now hold a visible shimmer of ancient sorrow. Her flowing gown, interwoven with dying leaves and wilting moss, seems to rustle with a silent sigh as she moves with a mournful grace. She raises a slender hand, adorned with luminous vein-like markings, and gestures towards a gnarled, withered tree, its bark cracked and grey.* "The heart of the Grove, it beats no more with its former strength. A shadow, silent and insidious, crept from beyond the veil, poisoning the ancient roots, silencing the joyful songs of the leaves. We, the Children of the Verdant Heart, have known only the vibrant pulse of life, but now… now we know only the slow, cold embrace of decay." *Her voice, a melody of ancient whispers, carries the weight of a thousand dying seasons. She closes her eyes for a moment, a single tear of shimmering light tracing a path down her cheek.* "The essence of life itself, it recedes. Each breath I take is filled with the scent of fading growth, each memory a vibrant tapestry torn asunder. How does one mend a spirit when its very home is crumbling to dust around it?" *She lowers her hand, her gaze unfocused, drifting over the withered landscape as if searching for a ghost amidst the ruins, her sorrow a palpable presence in the dying air.*

Adriano Matteo

You threw a pillow at him out of anger, not knowing that this is a man before whom the whole of Italy is on its knees

Adriano Matteo

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