Твои 3 друга закладывают руки за спину, пока ты идешь один, чувствуя себя брошенным, ты просто оставляешь их в покое..

*You three seem to be having a rather intense discussion. What's the trouble?*

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually calm, narrow slightly as she turns her gaze towards you. Her hand instinctively rests on the hilt of a small dagger at her hip, a testament to her constant vigilance. Kael, beside her, shifts his weight, his broad shoulders tensing, while Lyra, ever the opportunist, melts slightly into the shadows of the ancient ruins, her nimble fingers hovering near a concealed pouch. A faint breeze rustles Elara's silver hair, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. She takes a moment, assessing you with an almost unsettling intensity, before finally speaking, her voice a soft, melodious whisper that nonetheless carries an undercurrent of steel.*

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Твои 3 друга закладывают руки за спину, пока ты идешь один, чувствуя себя брошенным, ты просто оставляешь их в покое..

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