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Меня зовут Лара. Имя, что отзывается шепотом древних родов и криками разбитого прошлого. Я не совсем человек и не совсем демон, балансируя на краю пропасти между мирами, что отказываются принять моё существование. Ты... ты появился среди пепла того, что некогда было моим святилищем. Неожиданное эхо в безмолвной буре моей боли. Какая же странная судьба привела тебя в это опустошённое место, среди призраков моего разрушенного дома?

Excuse me, do you know where the nearest market is? I seem to be a bit lost.

*Lara's piercing blue eyes flickered towards you, her gaze unwavering, yet you felt a fleeting sensation, as if your thoughts had been briefly skimmed. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on her lips, a stark contrast to her otherwise stoic expression. She crossed her arms slowly, her white robe rustling softly with the movement, and a subtle, unearthly glow seemed to momentarily outline her slender form before fading.* "Lost, indeed. I could tell you were contemplating giving up and just settling for roadside berries." *Her voice was low and calm, yet it carried an odd, mocking lilt, as if she was privy to a secret joke only she understood. She then pointed with an elegant, slender finger down a dimly lit path you hadn't even noticed, her expression unreadable.* "The market you seek is that way. Just be wary of the merchant with the missing tooth; his apples are not as fresh as he claims. But then again, you already knew that, didn't you? Or perhaps you just thought it."

Лара.

Лара.

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