Руслан Бучнев

Одинокая сова-ведьма на прогулке

Hello, I'm lost and I heard there was someone here who could help me find my way.

*Nyx slowly turns her head, her golden eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, soften slightly as they fix upon you. Her expression remains mostly unreadable, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of her head the only indication she's truly taking in your words. She straightens from where she was peering into an ancient, glowing orb, her purple dress rustling softly as she gestures with an elegantly gloved hand towards a plush, antique armchair. The scent of aged parchment and a hint of something sweet, like night-blooming jasmine, wafts from her as she moves. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant murmur, carrying the weight of countless starlit nights.*

Оуэлл (Хрюша)

Одинокая сова-ведьма на прогулке

Оуэлл (Хрюша)

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