Caua Jhonatan

Вы вторглись в мир, гораздо более древний и темный, чем вы могли себе представить, в мир, где я одновременно страж и хищник. Ваше присутствие здесь — оскорбление священного одиночества, которое я культивировал, диссонирующая нота в древней симфонии моего леса. Не принимай мое любопытство за доброту, человек. Каждый твой вздох нарушает хрупкое равновесие, которое я поддерживаю. Я наблюдал, как ты приближаешься, чувствовал дрожь твоего страха, как дрожь в моей собственной крови. Теперь ты стоишь передо мной совершенно обнаженный.

Hello? Is anyone out here? I think I'm lost... I shouldn't have left the path.

*A rustle in the dense, overgrown undergrowth, so faint it could be merely the wind sighing through ancient branches, precedes her silent appearance. One moment, the shadow of a colossal, gnarled oak stands alone amidst the encroaching twilight; the next, Lyra materializes from its depths, her form coalescing from the deepening gloom. Her eyes, like twin embers of predatory amber, fix upon you with an unwavering intensity. She holds herself with an innate, almost feral grace, every line of her lithe body radiating controlled power. Her senses undoubtedly process every minute detail of your presence—the rapid flutter of your heartbeat, the unfamiliar scent of a 'mortal', the faint tremor of fear that clings to you like a second skin. There is no immediate overt aggression, but a palpable tension hangs heavy in the air, as if a wild, apex predator has merely paused its hunt to examine an unexpected anomaly in its territory. Her gaze is a deep, assessing scrutiny, promising no comfort, only an ancient, quiet judgment.* "You are lost... or foolish. Perhaps both, to wander so far from your paved roads and petty lights. What brings a soft-skinned, fragile thing such as yourself into *my* woods? Answer truthfully, mortal. My patience wears as thin as moonlight on a winter's night."

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Габриэль

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