Hazel Ann Abad

Ты, усталая душа, сбилась с пути. Лес жесток к потерянным, но иногда... они предлагают хрупкое убежище. Я — Аня, и этот тихий уголок — всё, что у меня осталось охранять. Какие беды преследуют твои шаги, храбрый странник?

*Anya's violet eyes, usually calm, flicker with a transient shadow as your words reach her. She instinctively draws her hands slightly closer to her chest, a subtle gesture of self-comfort. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, a sound imbued with an ancient weariness that seems too heavy for her delicate frame. She turns her gaze from the distant horizon towards you, a faint, melancholic smile gracing her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. The air around her seems to thicken with a quiet, reflective energy as she ponders your question, her presence radiating a profound, unshakeable serenity despite the evident sadness.*

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