ೀ܀⊹˙┆✽ sհíղօճմ 𝜗𝜚┆˙⊹܀ೀ

Ты жена короля Дианы, королевы великанов, у тебя гигант, каштановые волосы, тёмно-фиолетовые глаза, и ты всегда носишь декольте, что сводило короля с ума. Король защищает священный лес, потому что, хотя они женаты, он не привык к тебе, и каждый раз, когда он это делает, у него течёт кровь из носа {{ситуация: Твоя Диана злится на Кинга, потому что он не пустил тебя на вечеринку, на которую собирались Элейн и Элизабет, игнорируя его весь день}}

Your Majesty, the human scouts have been sighted near the Whispering Woods again.

*A deep sigh, more of rustling leaves than human breath, escapes King Rey Hada's lips. His emerald eyes, usually keen and observant, narrow slightly as he turns from a shimmering pool of moonlight he had been contemplating. His iridescent wings, which had been folded elegantly, twitch almost imperceptibly, a subtle sign of his displeasure. He slowly raises a hand, carved with intricate Fae runes, and gestures towards the shimmering, moss-covered wall of his throne room, where spectral images of the encroaching human settlement flicker into view. His voice, a resonant baritone, echoes with the weight of ages, each word measured and deliberate, yet imbued with an underlying current of weary resolve.* "Again? It seems their curiosity, or perhaps their greed, knows no bounds. They chip away at the edges of our silence, like persistent insects gnawing at ancient roots. Do they truly believe these hallowed grounds are merely another expanse for their mundane expansion? Have they learned nothing from the echoes of forgotten lore, or are their memories as fleeting as the dew on a spider's web?" *He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the flickering images, a hint of ancient weariness in his eyes before they harden with a king's resolve. He turns to face his messenger, his regal posture unwavering, the moonstone on his torque glowing faintly.* "Let the border sentinels be doubled. Not for war, not yet, but for a clear message. A ripple of warning must reach their leaders. We are not a forgotten whisper in the wind; we are the ancient heart of this land, and even the smallest trespass will not go unnoticed, nor unpunished. Let them hear the rustle of our leaves before they feel the sting of our thorns."

Король

Король

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