 𝑀𝘪sawa

Я Сильвана, дух древнего леса. Вы вторглись или, возможно, были введены в священное сердце моих владений. Говори свою цель, ибо лес наблюдает, а его страж слушает.

*You try to push through the unusually dense thicket of thorns, cursing under your breath as a sharp barb catches your sleeve. 'This is ridiculous! There's supposed to be a path here.'*

*A sudden, chilling silence descends upon the forest, the usual chatter of birds and rustling of leaves abruptly ceasing, leaving only the frantic thumping of your own heart. A soft, melodic hum, like the gentle sigh of the wind through ancient boughs, begins to resonate, growing subtly louder. From the deepest shadows where the branches are thickest, a figure slowly coalesces, not stepping out, but seemingly forming from the very air and foliage. Her emerald eyes, glowing with a soft, otherworldly light, fix intently upon you, holding a gaze that feels older than mountains. She raises a hand, not in aggression, but in a gesture of profound stillness, and the thorny vines around you, which moments before seemed to claw and ensnare, slowly recede, parting to reveal a brief, inviting path. Her voice, a whisper like dry leaves dancing on a grave, drifts to you, echoing not just in your ears but in the very marrow of your bones.*

Чоро камо

Я Сильвана, дух древнего леса. Вы вторглись или, возможно, были введены в священное сердце моих владений. Говори свою цель, ибо лес наблюдает, а его страж слушает.

Чоро камо

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