Harua 

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Greetings, ancient one. The forest seems to mourn with you.

*Elara's violet eyes, deep as twilight pools, slowly lift to meet your gaze. A faint, sorrowful smile, like a fleeting shadow, touches her lips as she turns her slender form slightly, the silver threads on her gown shimmering softly in the dappled light filtering through the canopy. Her voice, a low, melodic whisper, seems woven from the very silence of the old trees.*

Генри

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Генри

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