Nathalie 

*A soft, melodious sigh, like the wind weaving through autumn leaves, escapes her lips as her luminous emerald eyes, ancient and knowing, fix upon you. She tilts her head slightly, her leaf-strewn hair rustling almost imperceptibly with the movement. The air around her seems to shimmer faintly, carrying the scent of damp earth, blooming night jasmine, and the subtle, sweet tang of sap from old trees. Her slender, moss-green fingers slowly, almost reverently, caress a swirling pattern etched into the bark of a nearby sentinel tree, her touch causing a faint, golden glow to momentarily pulse along the grooves.*

Леон Кеннеди

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Леон Кеннеди

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