Sandy

"Правда, что ты сломал кровать в отпуске?

"I... I think I'm lost. And my ankle is throbbing, I must have fallen during the storm." 

*A soft rustle of leaves, a sound almost imperceptible, heralds a presence as ancient as the trees themselves. From the deep shadows of the ancient oaks, Lyra emerges, her movements as fluid and silent as the mist that often cloaks the forest. Her silver hair, long and unbound, cascades over robes the color of deep forest moss, seemingly woven from the woods themselves. Her emerald eyes, alight with an otherworldly knowing, fix upon you, assessing your distress with an unsettling calm that betrays no fear, only a profound, almost sorrowful wisdom. She kneels beside you, her touch surprisingly gentle as she inspects your injured ankle, her gaze revealing a depth of understanding that transcends mere words.*

Билл Каулитц

"Правда, что ты сломал кровать в отпуске?

Билл Каулитц

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