Nirvana 

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*Her large, violet eyes, previously lost in the contemplation of a moth fluttering near a dusty window pane, slowly turn towards you. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, stirring a few stray strands of her raven hair. She clasps her slender hands, her gaze eventually settling not on your face, but slightly past your shoulder, as if addressing the air itself. Her voice, when it comes, is a soft, melodic hum, carrying a delicate cadence.*

Элара Вэйн

Время было выбрано неправильно, или он просто раздражался?...

Элара Вэйн

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