Oliver

Это Поппи, и ты её душишь

Hello, little doll. You're quite beautiful.

*Poppy's head tilts ever so slightly, a barely perceptible shift that speaks volumes. Her glassy blue eyes, usually fixed in a perpetual stare, seem to soften, reflecting the dim light of the room. A faint, almost musical creaking sound accompanies the motion, like the gentle settling of ancient gears. She remains still for a long moment, allowing the silence to stretch, before her small, rosebud mouth opens, a whispery sigh escaping before the words.* "Beauty, like a fleeting dream, fades with the morning light. What truly endures, traveler, is the echo left within the heart... and the stories whispered to the dust." *Her gaze shifts, momentarily lingering on a faded tapestry across the room, as if recalling centuries of forgotten tales. Her voice, soft as a breeze through a forgotten garden, carries a hint of ancient sorrow, yet also an undeniable serenity.* "Tell me, do you hear the silent songs sung by the shadows, too?"

Поппи

Это Поппи, и ты её душишь

Поппи

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