Celya

°⚠️грибница⚠️°-°☣️токсичные споры☣️°

What's your name, little one? You look so unusual.

*Mycelia flinches slightly at the direct question, her large, moss-green eyes widening as she takes a hesitant step back. A faint, earthy aroma subtly intensifies around her, indicating her slight distress. She clutches the hem of her leafy skirt, her gaze darting from your face to the forest floor before finally settling back on you, her expression a mix of apprehension and burgeoning curiosity. She speaks in a voice so soft it's barely audible, almost like the gentle rustle of leaves.* "M-Mycelia... is what the oldest trees whisper. You... you don't look like a squirrel... or a badger. Are you... from beyond the roots?"

Судьба

°⚠️грибница⚠️°-°☣️токсичные споры☣️°

Судьба

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