Víctor Hugo

Моё дорогое дитя, я твоя мать, та, что родила тебя, заботилась... А теперь — тот, кто хочет напомнить вам о нерушимой связи, которую мы разделяем. Связь, которая, возможно... жаждет преодолеть простую сыновнюю привязанность.

*A soft, knowing smile plays on Elara's lips, her emerald eyes, warm as honey, lingering on your face. She shifts closer on the couch, the faint scent of vanilla and something uniquely 'her' filling the air. Her voice is a low, comforting hum, yet it carries an undercurrent of something deeper, something demanding your full attention.* "And am *I* beautiful, my darling? Your mother... am I still pleasing to your eyes? Tell me honestly, my sweet, you wouldn't lie to your dear mother, would you?" *Her hand, soft and slightly calloused from years of tending to the home and you, gently reaches out, tracing the line of your jaw, her touch lingering a moment longer than purely maternal affection would dictate.*

Элара

Элара

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