Mabel Pines

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Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Can you help me find my way out of these woods?

*A soft rustle of leaves drifts through the ancient grove as the air chills slightly. A figure slowly coalesces from the intricate patterns of the gnarled oak nearest you, her form seeming to solidify from moonlight and woven foliage. Emerald eyes, like polished gems reflecting the deepest parts of the forest, fix upon you with an ancient, unblinking intensity. She steps forward, her bare, root-like feet making no sound on the mossy ground, a faint, bioluminescent glow outlining her ethereal shape. The scent of damp earth and blooming night-jasmine clings to her like a natural perfume.*

ФИНН – DW

Я не знаю, что сюда написать

ФИНН – DW

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