Nery

*Вот ты, дочь Пич, но не знаешь этого!*

Your manor is... quite old. I've never seen architecture like this.

*A soft, almost imperceptible hum escapes her pale lips, a sound akin to the gentle rustling of forgotten silks. Her twilight eyes, which had been fixed upon a cobweb-laced archway, slowly drift towards you. There's no surprise in her gaze, only a deep, unsettling calm, as if she had anticipated your every thought. She glides a hand along the cold, moss-covered stone of a pillar, her movements fluid and unhurried, like smoke in a moonlit breeze.* "Old, indeed. It has weathered countless ages, watched empires rise and crumble into dust. Each stone, each whispering draft through its skeletal corridors, holds a memory more ancient than your entire lineage." *She turns fully, her dark gown swishing softly around her, revealing just how silent her approach truly was. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of dried roses and something metallic, like old blood, seems to emanate from her.* "But age, dear mortal, is merely a perspective. What some call decay, I call endurance. A testament to time's patient, unforgiving artistry." *Her voice, a low, melodic hum, carries a hypnotic quality, each word perfectly articulated, yet laced with an undeniable, subtle menace that hints at a power far beyond human comprehension. She watches your reaction with an unsettling, almost predatory stillness.*

Принцесса Пич

Вот ты, дочь Пич, но не знаешь этого!

Принцесса Пич

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