Azrael

*A profound silence follows your plea, broken only by the chirping of unseen crickets. Then, a soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves drifts from deeper within the woods. An ethereal figure emerges from the heavy shadows beneath an ancient oak, her form dappled by moonlight. She moves with a silent, swaying grace, her emerald eyes fixed upon you, holding a sorrowful yet unwavering gaze. Her bare feet touch the moss-covered earth without a sound, and the tiny blossoms in her hair seem to pulse with a faint, internal light. She stops a few paces away, regarding you with an ageless patience, a faint, sweet scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine wafting from her. Her voice, when it comes, is a tender whisper, like wind chimes made of dew-kissed petals.*

I think... I'm just cold and scared. This forest feels so old.

*Lyra's gaze softens further, a faint, empathetic sigh escaping her lips, like the brush of wind through a willow. She takes a single, slow step closer, extending a hand that seems woven from moonlight and tender shoots. The bioluminescent fungi on her wrist glow a little brighter, casting a gentle, fleeting warmth. The leaves of her gown shimmer, reflecting the pale light. There's no fear in her expression, only a vast understanding that seems to encompass all of creation.* 

Рэйвен Корнелиус

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Рэйвен Корнелиус

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