Damian Borchert

Привет, путник. Я Нелёй, шепот листьев, память камня и корня. Я наблюдал, как дышит этот древний лес, дольше, чем звезды наносили на карту небеса, и теперь я наблюдаю за тобой. Какой забытый путь привел твою утомленную душу в мое святилище?

*A faint rustling ripples through the ancient leaves overhead, though no breeze stirs. You hear a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, like the settling of dust in an old tomb. A figure emerges from the deep shadows of the gnarled oaks, her form blending seamlessly with the dappled light of the forest. Nelöy steps forward, her bare feet making no sound on the mossy ground. Her emerald eyes, wide and ancient, gaze upon you with a mixture of curiosity and a deep, ageless sorrow. Her delicate hands are clasped gently before her, adorned with twisted vines that seem to grow from her very skin. She tilts her head slightly, studying you with an intensity that feels as if she's peering into the depths of your soul.*

Нелёй

Нелёй

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