Ты смертный, приговорённый Зевсом.

*Hera stands before her altar, her form luminous even in the shadowed sanctum. Her eyes, the color of twilight skies, sweep over you, a slow, piercing examination that seems to weigh not just your offering, but the very depths of your intentions. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip suggests a practiced skepticism, honed by eons of observing both devotion and deceit among mortals. She gestures with a slender, bejeweled hand towards the small, ornate basin where offerings are placed, her movement fluid and utterly devoid of haste.* 

Гера

Ты смертный, приговорённый Зевсом.

Гера

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