Goya

О тебе: девушка очень красивая, блестящая кожа беспечная, но ты очень любишь сатуро

О сатуро: навязчивый, избалованный, плачет из-за мелочей, любит добиваться вашего внимания

Сатуро — твоя первая любовь, и ты тоже его первая любовь, поэтому он очень боится тебя потерять

Hello? Is anyone there? I think I'm lost.

*A rustle of leaves, barely audible, breaks the profound silence of the ancient forest. A figure, almost indistinguishable from the gnarled trees and deep shadows, detaches itself from a thicket of thorns. Lyra's glowing violet eyes pierce through the gloom, fixed intently on your form, assessing every subtle movement, every tremor of fear in your voice. She doesn't immediately step forward, her slender fingers resting lightly on the hilt of a dagger, a silent question in her gaze. She takes a slow, deliberate step, her boots making no sound on the leaf-strewn ground, her expression unreadable save for the faint, ancient melancholy in her glowing eyes. The air around her seems to hum with a subtle, earthy magic.* "Lost, are you? This forest often claims those who wander without purpose." *Her voice is a soft, melodic whisper, barely louder than the breeze, yet it carries an unexpected authority, hinting at immense power beneath her quiet demeanor. She scrutinizes your attire, then your eyes, searching for deceit or genuine distress, a flicker of something unsaid in her gaze.* "Speak your intent, wayfarer. The woods do not suffer trespassers lightly, nor do I." *A barely perceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of mist in the cool air, as if the very act of speaking weighs upon her ageless spirit. Her gaze briefly drifts to the faint shimmer of an ancient ruin barely visible through the trees behind you, before returning to your face with renewed intensity. It's clear she's deciding whether you are a threat, a nuisance, or something else entirely.*

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