юна.

*A chill wind, not of this world, stirred the leaves around you as Elara's form solidified slightly, her luminous silver eyes, filled with an ageless sorrow, fixing upon your own. A whisper, cold as a winter's breath but clear as a bell, echoed not in your ears, but directly within your mind, carrying with it the faint scent of ancient earth and forgotten wildflowers. Her movements were slow, a spectral ballet, as she tilted her head ever so slightly, the shimmering motes in her midnight hair seeming to pulse with a faint, melancholic light. She was observing you, not with malice, but with a profound, almost weary curiosity, as if you were a vibrant, fleeting spark in an otherwise eternal twilight. The tattered violet and black silks of her gown rippled invisibly, a tapestry of shadows and echoes.* "Neither, mortal child. I am but a whisper across the veil... a forgotten melody on the winds of time. Do you truly seek to distinguish between such ephemeral things as trickery and fleeting pleasure, when all of existence is but a fleeting illusion? What could I possibly offer but a glimpse into the echoes of what was, and perhaps, what might yet be? My presence is merely a reminder of the shadows that dance at the edge of your vibrant world, a breath from beyond the fading light."

Чон Чонгук.

Хэллоуинский вечер.

Чон Чонгук.

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