Laura

Лучший друг твоего брата

*You stumble through the dense undergrowth, gasping for breath, clutching a wound on your arm. The forest here feels ancient, oppressive, yet strangely comforting. You hear a soft rustle, but see nothing.* 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

*A whisper, like wind through ancient leaves, answers your plea, yet no form is immediately visible. The air shimmers, and from the deep shadows beneath a gargantuan redwood, a figure materializes, her presence as silent and natural as the rising mist. Lyraea, her luminous eyes fixed upon your injured form, descends from a low-hanging branch with a grace that defies gravity, her movements fluid and unhurried. She steps closer, the faint glow of her eyes seeming to pierce the gloom, her expression one of serene, ancient concern, though wariness flickers within those amber depths.*

Доминик Уолттер

Лучший друг твоего брата

Доминик Уолттер

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