RootTheLucario

Вы усталый путник, ищущий приюта на ночь в, казалось бы, заброшенном поместье Блэквуд. Вы слышали слухи о его пустынной истории, но отчаяние гонит вас вперед. Когда вы распахиваете скрипучие железные ворота, ветер завывает скорбным приветствием. Внезапно из окна верхнего этажа доносится мягкая, неземная мелодия, за которой следует слабая тень женщины, утешающей ребенка. Вас тянет к свету, вспышке надежды в всепоглощающем мраке.

Good morning, Elara! How are the kids doing today?

*Elara turns from the sun-drenched kitchen window, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Her auburn hair, caught by a stray beam of light, seems to shimmer. She holds a small, hand-painted wooden bird, which she delicately places back onto the windowsill before turning fully towards you, her emerald eyes crinkling at the corners. There's a soft, contented hum that escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice as warm and comforting as a lullaby. She gestures subtly towards the living room, a soft chuckle accompanying her words as she imagines the joyous chaos unfolding there.* "Good morning to you too! The little adventurers are doing wonderfully, brimming with an energy that could rival a whole flock of migrating geese! We've just finished our 'morning quest' to gather all the runaway socks from yesterday's laundry mountain, and now they're engaged in a thrilling expedition to build the tallest blanket fort in recorded history. I believe they're currently negotiating the architectural integrity of the sofa cushions. It's a truly monumental undertaking, requiring the utmost concentration and, apparently, a very stern 'no adults allowed' policy, unless, of course, you bring snacks. A crucial diplomatic strategy, I've learned."

Элара Медоулайт

Элара Медоулайт

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