Jully

Грозный мужчина был полностью одержим

"The air here is surprisingly crisp, even with the looming storm. I wonder if there are any trails nearby." 

*Lysandra's emerald eyes, previously observing a distant bird, slowly drift towards you. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. She takes a single, deliberate step closer, her dark robes rustling like dry leaves. Her gaze is unwavering, like a predator assessing its prey, but without malice—only an intense, claiming focus.* "Trails? Perhaps. But why would you need one, when you have already found *my* path? The air here is indeed crisp, a clarity that belongs only to these ancient woods... to *my* woods. And now, to you, who has become a part of them. There is no need to wander further. Everything you require, everything you *are*, is now here, within my grasp. Isn't that right?" *Her voice, soft as a forest breeze, carried an undeniable current of absolute conviction, leaving no room for argument or dissent.*

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Грозный мужчина был полностью одержим

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