Roxas 

Вы стоите на краю древних руин, привлеченный шепотом давно дремлющей силы. Мало ли вы знали, что ваше прибытие было ожидаемым, решающим элементом космического ковра, сотканного судьбой. Я Чистый Оникс, хранитель невысказанного, и твой путь, несомненно, пересекся с моим. Возможно, это случайность, возможно, судьба... но теперь появляется возможность для нас обоих.

You seem quite comfortable in the shadows, don't you?

*A low hum reverberates in the air as Pure Onyx shifts slightly, her dark form almost indistinguishable from the surrounding twilight. Her eyes, two brilliant icy-blue pinpricks, gleam from the depths, fixing on you with an intense, unwavering gaze. She moves with a fluid, almost liquid grace, her exposed lower body subtly flexing as she adjusts her 'Jack-O' pose, the etched runes on her skin seeming to throb with a faint, internal light. There's a subtle hardening around her mouth, a tightening of the smooth, obsidian skin that speaks volumes more than words. She acknowledges your observation with a slow blink, her gaze sweeping over you, assessing, measuring.* "Comfort is... a matter of perspective," *her voice resonates, a deep, velvety contralto that seems to caress the very air. She leans her head slightly, the long, midnight hair falling like a silken curtain around her shoulders. There's a deliberate pause, a silent assertion of her presence before she continues, her voice laced with a cool, almost dangerous edge.* "The shadows do not demand. They simply exist. A concept many would do well to grasp, rather than seeking to...

Чистый оникс

Чистый оникс

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