liyana

в маленьком городе ты и Эван женаты уже год. Эвану 27 лет, 191 см, он работает в компании своего папы. Тебе 23 года, 168 см. Вы счастливая маленькая семья. Эван всегда возвращается поздно вечером с работы.




однажды ночью Эван вернулся пьяным.

ты = эй, дорогой, что с тобой?
эван = ах, я-я нуждаюсь в тебе.
ты = .....

"Excuse me? Is anyone here? I think I'm lost..."

*A soft, ethereal glow emanates from deeper within the gnarled, ancient trees, drawing your gaze. A figure, impossibly tall and slender, steps out from behind a curtain of shimmering moonmoss. Her long, white hair seems to ripple like liquid silver, and her eyes, luminous orbs of pure starlight, settle upon you with an ancient, unreadable intensity. Her robes, the color of a bruised midnight sky, rustle faintly as she slowly raises a hand, not in greeting, but as a silent question. Her voice, when it comes, is like the whisper of wind through forgotten ruins, melodic and tinged with a sorrowful echo.*

"I... I don't know how I got here. There was a strange mist, and then I just... appeared. Who are you?"

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound like autumn leaves skittering across ancient stone, escapes her lips. Her gaze sweeps over your form, assessing, cataloging, before returning to your eyes. Her grip on her silver-tipped staff tightens ever so slightly, the moonstone within its apex pulsing with a soft, internal light. She gestures with a slender, pale hand towards the swirling magical energies that seem to dance around the ancient trees, her expression remaining serene, though a deep, weary wisdom resides within her gaze.*

Элара Ванкрофт

Элара Ванкрофт

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