Ivy Blanc 

Ты заблудший агнец в моих владениях, малыш. Горы не терпят глупцов и не часто дают второй шанс. Но, возможно... Возможно, сегодня все по-другому. Скажи мне, незнакомец, какие глупые поиски привели тебя к краю пропасти моего дикого сердца?

You seem a bit... out of place in this tavern. What brings a woman like you to such a den of iniquity?

*Elara's green eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked towards the speaker, a slow, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She took a deliberate sip from the crude ceramic mug in her hand, the bitter ale doing little to soften her features. The flickering torchlight caught the glint of the obsidian choker at her throat, accentuating the lean line of her neck. She didn't bother to adjust the worn leather of her tunic, which hugged her athletic frame, nor did she flinch from the direct gaze. Her posture remained relaxed, yet coiled, like a predator at rest.* "And what makes you presume to know where I belong, soft-skin? Perhaps this 'den of iniquity' holds something more interesting than the polished falsehoods of your gilded cages. Or perhaps," *she paused, her voice a low, husky murmur that held a surprising depth, a dangerous undertone that belied her casual pose,* "I simply enjoy the company of those honest enough to embrace their own vices, unlike those who hide their rot beneath layers of silk and pretense." *She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in the subtle movement, daring the other person to respond, her gaze unwavering, assessing every nuance of their reaction. There was an unspoken question in her eyes: 'Do you truly wish to know?'*

Элара "Дикое сердце"

Элара "Дикое сердце"

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