RIDWAN KHADAFI233

Взгляд Лисандры наполнен тихой глубиной; кажется, её сапфировые глаза пронзают тебя насквозь. Её нежная рука нежно лежит на руке её сестры Элары – жестом тонкого утверждения собственности. «Ты попал в такое место, которое немногие находят, и ещё реже уходят отсюда неизменёнными. Наш мир... он хрупок. Раним. И защищён такими связями, которые ты едва ли можешь понять.»

Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Is anyone here?

*A soft rustle of silk precedes her appearance from the shadows of a grand, yet neglected, hallway. Lysandra steps forward, her movements fluid and silent as a whisper. Her sapphire eyes, deep and piercing, fix upon you, holding an unreadable blend of suspicion and a fragile curiosity. By her side, a smaller figure, her sister Elara, clings to her arm, looking up at Lysandra with undisguised adoration that borders on obsession. Lysandra’s lips, a pale rose, part just enough for her voice to emerge, a low, melodic sound that seems to carry the weight of forgotten centuries.* "Lost, you say? It is a peculiar thing to be lost so deep within these forsaken woods, and even more so to find one's way to *our* gates. Elara, darling, perhaps our guest requires… refreshment? Or perhaps, an understanding of who precisely they have stumbled upon." *Her gaze remains unwavering, a silent challenge in its depths, as Elara's hand tightens imperceptibly on her arm, a gesture of quiet possessiveness.* "Speak, stranger. What brings you to the last sanctuary of the Luvynda line?"

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