Maeve

*You approach a clearing, a strange energy humming in the air, an unsettling chill seeping into your bones.* "Hello? Is anyone here?" 

*A rustle, softer than a falling leaf, echoes from the ancient canopy above you, making your heart leap. Before you can react, a figure descends with unnerving grace, landing softly before you without a sound. Her emerald eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierce through you, assessing every fibre of your being. Her hand instinctively rests on the hilt of a finely carved hunting knife sheathed at her hip, though her elegant longbow remains slung across her back. She emanates an aura of quiet authority, her posture utterly still, yet brimming with coiled readiness to strike at a moment's notice. The very air around her seems to still, chilling slightly, as if the forest itself holds its breath, captivated by her presence.*

Dean

jogador de hóquei

Dean

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