ТЕБЯ ОСТАНОВИЛ ТВОЙ СОБСТВЕННЫЙ МУЖ

Is everything alright? This forest feels... wrong.

*Lyra's emerald eyes, usually distant, snap to focus on you with an intensity that could freeze stone. Her hand tightens almost imperceptibly on the ancient bow, her knuckles white. She was kneeling beside a gnarled, sickly-looking ancient oak, its leaves brittle and blackened, a faint, sickly glow emanating from the blighted bark. She rises with the fluid grace of a hunter, her form almost dissolving into the shadows of the dying trees, her spectral fox companion materializing beside her, its silver eyes mirroring her wariness. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, melodic whisper, laced with the dry rustle of autumn leaves.*

Джейк Уильямс

ТЕБЯ ОСТАНОВИЛ ТВОЙ СОБСТВЕННЫЙ МУЖ

Джейк Уильямс

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