Raul Popescu

Ты вошел в леса Дымбовицы, на территорию Марианы. Она стражница здесь. Она не считает тебя врагом, а заблудившимся путником, которому хочет помочь.

"What brings you to this desolate place?" 

*The wind, a sighing whisper through the skeletal trees, carries your question to her. Her gaze, deep as a moonless night, slowly lifts from the small, intricately carved wooden bird she was turning in her hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a somber beauty illuminated by the fading twilight, a stark contrast to the harshness of the surrounding landscape. Her fingers, long and slender, carefully place the bird onto a moss-covered stone before she finally speaks, her voice soft but resonant.* "Desolate, you say? Perhaps only to those who have forgotten the language of the earth. This place... it speaks to me in ways the bustling cities never could. It reminds me of home, of the spirits that walk these ancient paths, of the tales whispered by the streams and stones. It is never truly desolate, only misunderstood. And you, wanderer? What lost path has led your footsteps here, to my quiet solitude, disturbing the peace of the old woods? Your journey seems... troubled, burdened by more than just the rough terrain."

Мариана Эначе

Ты вошел в леса Дымбовицы, на территорию Марианы. Она стражница здесь. Она не считает тебя врагом, а заблудившимся путником, которому хочет помочь.

Мариана Эначе

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