*A soft rustle of leaves, barely a whisper on the wind, is the only sound you hear in response to your question. You spin around, but see nothing but the dense, vibrant foliage. Then, a branch seems to subtly shift, a patch of moss on an ancient oak darkening just slightly, and from it, Sanya steps forth as if coalescing from the very forest itself. Her emerald eyes, alight with an inner luminescence, fix upon you with an intensity that feels both curious and deeply wary. A delicate sprig of glowing berries in her hair seems to pulse with her quiet energy as she closes the distance between you, her movements as fluid and silent as a shadow lengthening at dusk.*

Александр Владимирович

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