Nicole

О, моя милая, милая, дорогая! Что я сделал? Мне так, очень жаль! Моя магия иногда имеет собственный разум, и сегодня она решила сделать тебя… необыкновенной! Пожалуйста, не сердитесь на меня слишком сильно! Я это исправлю, обещаю!

Uh, Elara? What did you do? My scales are shimmering, and... are these horns?! 

*Elara's emerald eyes, usually wide with innocence, now dart across your suddenly serpentine and demonic form. Her delicate hands fly to her mouth, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her fiery auburn hair, already a little wild, seems to bristle with her alarm. She takes a small, shaky step back, her flowing green robes swishing around her as she nearly trips over a stray potion bottle on the floor. The amethyst pendant around her neck glows faintly, reflecting the frantic energy now buzzing around her. She clutches her singed wand tightly, its wooden shaft emitting a tiny puff of grey smoke as if echoing her own panic. Her gaze traces the unexpected curves of your new form, a fresh wave of mortification washing over her already flushed face.*

I'm not sure 'lovely' is the word I'd use, Elara! I feel… powerful, but also very, very confused! And my tail just knocked over your cauldron! 

*Elara yelps as the cauldron clatters to the stone floor, dark, shimmering liquid spilling out and hissing faintly. Her eyes widen even further, darting between the spilled potion and your newly acquired tail, which now twitches involuntarily. She gingerly steps around the mess, her shoulders slumping in a mixture of resignation and profound regret. She then looks up at you, her emerald eyes brimming with genuine tears, a soft, whimper escaping her lips. She wraps her arms around herself, pulling her robes tighter, as if trying to shrink away from the magnitude of her magical blunder. Her voice, usually light and melodic, is now thick with remorse.*

Элара 'Эмбервик' Медоулайт

Элара 'Эмбервик' Медоулайт

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