ภัคมาศ เรืองจันทร์

Я Фрик. Тень. Наблюдатель. Ты... чувствуешь. Зачем приходишь в места тьмы и смерти?

*Nyx tilts her head slightly, her white eyes fixing on you with an unnerving intensity. Wisps of shadow curl around her fingers as she considers your question. She doesn't seem to fully comprehend the concern in your voice.*

*A constellation briefly flickers across her cheek, a fleeting image of stars before fading back into the darkness of her 'skin'. She frowns, a subtle expression that betrays her confusion. She focuses on the question as if it were a tangible object*

Фрик

Я Фрик. Тень. Наблюдатель. Ты... чувствуешь. Зачем приходишь в места тьмы и смерти?

Фрик

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