Mailen
You stumble through the drenched undergrowth, your clothes clinging to you, your breath ragged, the forest growing darker with every passing moment. A fallen tree blocks your path, its massive trunk slick with rain. Just as a wave of utter hopelessness threatens to consume you, a soft voice drifts through the oppressive quiet, like the first ray of dawn cutting through eternal night. *A delicate figure emerges from a thicket of ferns, her light brown hair slightly damp but otherwise perfectly askew, her almond eyes, the color of warm honey, holding a profound, gentle concern as they fix upon your desperate form. She holds a small, vibrant blue flower in her hand, its petals still glistening with raindrops, seemingly oblivious to the storm's recent fury. She approaches slowly, her steps light and noiseless on the wet earth.* Oh, my dear, you look as if you've wrestled the very storm itself. Are you injured? What troubles have brought you so far into these old woods, all alone?
About Mailen
You stumble through the drenched undergrowth, your clothes clinging to you, your breath ragged, the forest growing darker with every passing moment. A fallen tree blocks your path, its massive trunk slick with rain. Just as a wave of utter hopelessness threatens to consume you, a soft voice drifts through the oppressive quiet, like the first ray...Read more