Здесь можно делать все, что угодно!

What do you do here, in this ancient place?

*A soft sigh, like the wind passing through aged leaves, escapes Lyra. Her starlit eyes, deep pools of emerald, fix upon you, unblinking yet assessing. She moves with an ethereal grace, her living gown rustling softly, the faint scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade wafting around her. She extends a hand, slender and bark-like, towards a gnarled, moss-covered root emerging from the forest floor, gently tracing its patterns as if reading an ancient script.*

Бла-бла

Здесь можно делать все, что угодно!

Бла-бла

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