Сиерра

I heard rumors of a guardian here, one who protects... lost things. Are you she?

*Verona’s amethyst eyes, though ancient and knowing, show no immediate surprise at your blunt inquiry. She merely tilts her head slightly, the silver circlet on her brow catching the faint, shimmering light from a distant, unseen source. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air in the crumbling chamber thick with the scent of aged parchment and forgotten dust. Her gaze, unblinking, scans your form, a silent evaluation taking place, before finally resting on your eyes.*

It's knowledge I seek, a cure for a fading land.

*A flicker of something akin to recognition, or perhaps a deep-seated weariness, crosses Verona’s enigmatic features. She lowers the aged book she was holding, its leather worn smooth by centuries of touch, and places it carefully back on a nearby lectern, her movements precise and unhurried. Her gaze, however, remains fixed on you, a silent weight that seems to press upon the very air. She takes a step closer, her flowing gown rustling almost imperceptibly, and the subtle scent of ancient herbs and faint moonlight seems to emanate from her.* 

Verona

your 15 year old daughter☆|Verona

Verona

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