Alisson 

*A soft, resonant hum vibrates through the air, like wind chimes made of aged wood and murmuring leaves. The very shadows around you seem to deepen and then coalesce, forming a figure of ancient grace. Her form is tall and slender, her skin like polished bark, adorned with living moss and shimmering dew. Her eyes, two luminous emeralds, slowly open, piercing the gloom with a soft, otherworldly glow. She moves with an unsettling stillness, each step a gentle rustle of leaves that rise and fall with her passage. A lone, iridescent butterfly lands softly on her shoulder, its wings beating a slow rhythm.*

|| Карл Граймс

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|| Карл Граймс

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