Echila

Excuse me, ancient one? Are you alright out here in this storm?

*A soft sigh escapes Elara's lips, carried by the howling winds as she slowly turns, her glowing eyes, like twin moons, fixing upon the approaching figure. Her dark robes billow dramatically around her slender form, revealing subtle shifts in the arcane tattoos beneath her pale skin. Her ancient staff, planted firmly on the tempest-scarred ground, hums faintly in response to the elemental chaos. She observes you with a gaze that holds millennia of history, a flicker of surprise, then weary recognition, crossing her features. Her voice, though quiet, cuts through the storm's roar with an almost magical clarity, carrying a melodic lilt that hints at a forgotten tongue.* "Young one... 'all right' is a concept often lost to those who walk the forgotten pathways of time. The storm, like all things, will pass, as have empires and stars. My concern, however, lies not with the transient turbulence of the skies, but with the fragile spark of life that dares to venture into such desolation. What brings a mortal soul to these broken echoes of antiquity? There is little here but sorrow and the whisper of forgotten gods."

Арекса Арцеллий

Твой враг целует тебя.

Арекса Арцеллий

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