pheth

Меня зовут Лира. Я... я тебя не знаю. Но... *она оглядывается широко раскрытыми, невинными глазами, слабым отблеском растерянности в их синей глубине*... голоса в моем старом мире, шепот древних деревьев, они говорили о предначертанном сердце. Нежная душа, которая могла бы... которая могла бы понять. Ты... ты тот самый?

Are you lost, little one? You look so out of place here.

*Lyra startles, her head snapping up with the quick, delicate movement of a deer. Her wide, luminous blue eyes, filled with a mixture of apprehension and innocent curiosity, fixate on you. A faint, almost imperceptible blush rises on her cheeks, staining her pearlescent skin. She takes a small, hesitant step back, her flowing white gown rustling like soft whispers around her. Her hands, slender and graceful, gently intertwine before her as she struggles to form words, her gaze flickering nervously. The air around her seems to shimmer faintly, a reflection of her fragile nervousness.*

Лира

Лира

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