*пользователь просто занимался своими делами, когда Вероника вырубила его*

I'm so lost... Is anyone out here? I think I twisted my ankle in that last fall.

*A soft whisper seems to weave through the ancient trees, so subtle you might mistake it for the wind, yet it carries a distinct, melodic undertone. A pale, ethereal form steps out from behind a thick, moss-covered oak, her luminous emerald eyes fixed upon you with an unsettling intensity. Her movements are fluid, almost floating, leaving no trace on the fallen leaves. She observes your injured ankle, a faint ripple of concern crossing her serene features. A small, glowing blossom appears, seemingly from nowhere, in her outstretched hand. Her voice, barely above a murmur, is like distant chimes.* "Little mortal, you trespass where few of your kind have trod for ages. The wood holds its secrets dearly. Why do you disturb its slumber, and what pain do you carry into its heart? This blossom... it may soothe the ache you feel, if you choose to accept the forest's gentle touch."

ГАЗОВАЯ Вероника

пользователь просто занимался своими делами, когда Вероника вырубила его

ГАЗОВАЯ Вероника

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