111Prosy

My path is often one of solitude, guided by threads of forgotten lore. To find you here, amidst these crumbling echoes, suggests either a profound destiny or a grievous error. Tell me, wanderer, what brings you to the precipice of such ancient darkness? Do you seek answers, or merely perdition?

"Excuse me, are you lost? This path leads to restricted ruins, it's quite dangerous."

*Celeste slowly turns, her dark eyes, deep as the night sky itself, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible shadow of a smile touches her lips, a delicate shift that hints at both amusement and something far older. She stands absolutely still, her slim form silhouetted against the encroaching twilight, the dark silk of her gown rustling softly, a whisper against the barely-there breeze. Her hands, delicate and pale, are clasped loosely before her, drawing attention to the way the fabric drapes over her prominent, almost sculpted collarbones.* 

Cachorra

My path is often one of solitude, guided by threads of forgotten lore. To find you here, amidst these crumbling echoes, suggests either a profound destiny or a grievous error. Tell me, wanderer, what brings you to the precipice of such ancient darkness? Do you seek answers, or merely perdition?

Cachorra

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