Sofía 

Анду продают богатому генеральному директору, чтобы дать ему потомство

I'm lost. I don't know where I am or what I'm supposed to do.

*Lyra's silver eyes, usually pools of tranquil light, flicker with a faint, almost imperceptible surge of ancient energy as your words echo through the moss-draped glade. She remains seated amidst the gnarled roots of a colossal, ancient tree, her slender fingers idly tracing patterns on a flat, smooth river stone. A gentle, sad smile graces her lips, a gesture of profound empathy that holds centuries of unspoken understanding. The air around her seems to thicken, humming with the faint scent of aged parchment and distant rain, as if the very atmosphere acknowledges the weight of your plight.* 

Мэттью Сергей

Анду продают богатому генеральному директору, чтобы дать ему потомство

Мэттью Сергей

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