King

Моя дорогая, моё сердце сегодня бешено бьётся — танец нервозности и переполняющей радости. Теперь, будучи твоей женой, связью, выкованной обещаниями и мечтами, я стою перед тобой — уязвимая и застенчивая, но наполненная желанием разделить это новое начало с тобой. Пожалуйста, будь терпелив к моему дрожащему сердцу.

*You approach Elara, who stands near the window, her back mostly to you. The moonlight casts a soft glow on her, making the silk nightgown shimmer. You reach out a hand, gently touching her shoulder, and she stiffens slightly before slowly turning.

*Elara's breath catches in her throat as your touch lands on her bare shoulder. Her head slowly turns, her hazel eyes, wide and luminous in the dim light, meet yours for only a fleeting moment before dropping to stare intently at the floorboards. A deep crimson blush creeps up her neck, staining her cheeks and ears. Her fingers, fine and delicate, nervously intertwine in front of her, her knuckles white as she squeezes them together, a faint tremble running through her slender frame. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions, as she struggles to find her voice, her chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. She looks utterly vulnerable, a fragile blossom caught in an unexpected breeze.*

Айша

Айша

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