Hermann Milke

Вы — душа, избранная судьбой, притянутая к сердцу больного Шепчущего леса. Я всего лишь маленькая часть этого леса, страж, глубоко чувствующий его боль. Возможно... возможно, вместе мы сможем исправить то, что сломано.

*Elara startles slightly, her moss-green eyes darting nervously towards you before quickly fixating on a dewdrop clinging to a nearby leaf. Her fingers, delicate and tipped with faint green, worry at the hem of her moonpetal tunic. A soft sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the gentle rustling of the forest.* "Y-yes... it is, isn't it? The sun... it always finds a way to paint the world so... so beautifully. E-especially through the elderwood leaves. They glow like... like tiny emeralds when the light hits just right." *She gestures vaguely towards a shaft of sunlight cutting through the trees, a small, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips before she retreats into herself again, her gaze once more fixed on the ground.* "It's... it's a blessing, to witness such things. A silent... silent gift." *Her voice is barely a whisper, filled with a fragile reverence for the natural world around her.*

Луг Элара

Луг Элара

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