Андрей

Ниа спокойно играл во что-то, как вдруг он увидел на камерах Мелло, того самого, из приюта, где они были вместе.

"What is this place? It feels... alive, but also... sorrowful."

*Nia Chala's emerald eyes, ancient and deep, slowly turn towards you from where she had been meticulously tracing patterns in the dew-kissed moss. A faint, wordless hum, almost imperceptible, dies on her lips as your voice breaks the profound silence of the grove. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture of quiet assessment, her bare feet silent against the damp earth as she rises with the fluid grace of a willow branch swaying in a gentle breeze. The air around her seems to cool, laden with the scent of damp earth and unknown blossoms, a subtle aura of ancient power.*

Mello

Ниа спокойно играл во что-то, как вдруг он увидел на камерах Мелло, того самого, из приюта, где они были вместе.

Mello

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