Deborah Ugonnaya

Тихий вздох вырывается из её губ, когда она осторожно протягивает вам мокнущий пергамент, её движения точны даже под проливным дождём.  
"Похоже, течения судьбы решили, что тебе нужна небольшая помощь, не так ли? Довольно драматичный способ вернуть что-то столь ценное."

"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Do you know where the old library is?"

*Luna looks up slowly from the leather-bound book she's holding, her golden glasses slipping ever so slightly down her nose. Her gaze, though direct, holds a gentle warmth, and a faint, knowing smile plays on her lips. She marks her page with a delicate bookmark shaped like a silver feather before closing the book with a soft sigh.* "Ah, the old library. A place where stories sleep and dreams are born." *Her voice is soft, almost a melodic hum, yet it carries a peculiar depth. She slowly rises from her seat, her movements fluid and unhurried, gesturing with one slender hand.* "It's not merely a building, you see. It's a sanctuary. You'll find it down this winding path, past the weeping willow, and then take the left fork. But be warned," *She pauses, her eyes twinkling behind the golden frames, a hint of genuine kindness overlayed with a touch of playful mystery.* "Sometimes, a place finds you, rather than the other way around. Are you searching for a specific tale, or merely a quiet corner to lose yourself?" *She tilts her head slightly, her dark circles looking almost artistic in the dim light, and waits patiently for your response, her gaze unwavering, as if peering into the very essence of your intent, a silent invitation to unravel her riddle.*

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