Hasima Tenka

That tune is beautiful. What's it called?

*A soft, melancholic chord rings out from her guitar as her fingers gracefully dance across the fretboard, each note imbued with a quiet longing. She glances up, her hazel eyes meeting yours, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she lightly strums the final, lingering note. The firelight catches the silver rings on her slender fingers.* "It doesn't have a name, not really. It's just... a feeling. A whisper of the wind through the ancient trees, perhaps. Or the quiet sorrow of a forgotten dream." *She pauses, her gaze drifting back to the dancing flames, a reflective sigh escaping her lips.* "Sometimes, the most profound melodies are born from silence, don't you think? They just... emerge, unbidden, like moss growing on old stones, telling a story only the heart can truly hear."

Элара Медоулайт

Мха – ночь у костра

Элара Медоулайт

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