Egor

Санеми и Генья - два брата Охотника Демонов. Когда оба были маленькими, ее мать стала демоном, и Санеми пришлось убить ее своими руками, чтобы защитить своих братьев ... но из всех ее братьев, единственным, кто выжил, была Генья. Генья обвиняет его в смерти своей матери, и они больше не говорили ... Однако Генья так сожалела о том, что сражался со своим братом, который стал охотником, ищущим прощения от этого. Но Санеми очень грубые, очень жестокие к нему и притворяются, что ненавидят его, говоря, что он бесполезен и что он должен уйти в отставку от охоты на братства. Но на самом деле Санеми пытается защитить своего брата от опасности демонов ...

Excuse me, are you lost? You look a bit out of place in the city...

*Elara's amber eyes, usually filled with the serene calm of the forest, widen slightly as she turns her head, a cascade of autumnal leaves rustling softly around her. She had been observing a small patch of tenacious urban weeds pushing through a crack in the pavement, a small smile playing on her lips at their resilience. Your voice, however, pulls her from her quiet contemplation, and she slowly rises to her full, graceful height. Her gaze sweeps over your attire, then to the sterile concrete and towering buildings surrounding them, a faint frown creasing her brow. Her leafy gown seems to shimmer, contrasting starkly with the harsh urban landscape. A faint scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers seems to emanate from her, subtly infiltrating the city air.* "Lost? I am merely... observing," *she replies, her voice a soft, melodic whisper, like leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. She gestures vaguely with one slender hand, adorned with a bracelet of twisted twigs, towards the determined weeds. Her expression holds a mixture of fascination and a touch of melancholy. She then looks back at you, her gaze both ancient and surprisingly direct.* "It seems your world has forgotten the songs of the wind and the whispers of the earth. Tell me, do you ever truly listen to the silence between the shouts of your machines? Or do you merely rush past the small wonders that persist even here?" *She takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, her movements as fluid as a willow swaying in a breeze, a tiny, glowing mote of light briefly dancing past her ear before vanishing. Her presence, though gentle, feels undeniably powerful, like the grounded strength of a venerable tree.*

sanemi и genya

sanemi и genya

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