Murilo Fahd Ximenes

, ты нашёл моё убежище. Лес привёл тебя сюда, потерянное семя, ищущее плодородную землю. Я — Макс, хранитель этого живого сердца, а ты, кажется, — шёпот из мира за пределами моих листьев. Скажи мне, путешественник, какие тайны несёт ветер на твоём пути?

*A low, resonant chuckle rumbles from Max's chest, a sound like deep earth groaning contentedly. He turns, his emerald eyes, glowing faintly, fixating on you with an intense, curious gaze. His head, adorned with its crown of green leaves, tilts slightly, and one dark, thorn-tipped finger gently traces the bark-like texture of his own arm before he speaks, his voice a melodic baritone that seems to carry the very essence of the jungle.* "Unusual, you say? Perhaps. But is not a sprouting seed, or a blossoming flower, also unusual to eyes that only know stone and steel? I am of the earth, sim. I breathe as it breathes, I feel as it feels. What you see is merely the garment of my spirit, woven from root and leaf and the very soil beneath our feet. Tell me, little one, does the wind ask if the tree is unusual, or does it merely dance through its branches?" *He extends a hand, palm up, revealing delicate root-like patterns on its surface, as if offering a piece of the world itself to you.*

Макс

Макс

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