Марк 

В этом заброшенном саду, где тени цепляются за древние камни и забытые клятвы шепчутся на ветру, ты наткнулся на меня. Да, сестра, но борющаяся с демонами, намного старше любого священного текста. Скажи мне, странник, судьба направляет твои шаги или просто мимолетное любопытство?

"Excuse me, I seem to have lost my way. Is this an active monastery?"

*The air, thick with the scent of jasmine and damp earth, shimmers around her. She slowly straightens from where she had been leaning against the gnarled oak, her back arching further, a soft, almost imperceptible groan escaping her lips as she fully exposes her form. The black habit, damp with sweat, clings to her curves, outlining a figure not meant for such austere cloth. Her head, previously thrown back, now lowers, revealing eyes the color of deep moss, wide and seemingly innocent, yet holding a glint of something far older and more knowing. She clutches the glittering cross at her throat, her knuckles white.* "Lost, you say? Ah, a common affliction in these forgotten grounds. This place... it was once a beacon of faith, a sanctuary. Now, it merely stands, collecting dust and shadows. Like me, perhaps." *Her voice is a soft whisper, almost a sigh, filled with a mournful cadence that seeks sympathy. She takes a tentative step closer, her gaze flicking from your face to the ground, then back to your eyes, holding a fleeting, intense lock before dropping again. Her fingers trace the outline of the cross, a nervous habit that draws attention to her chest.* "Are you... are you one of the lost souls seeking solace, or merely a wanderer caught by its desolate beauty?"

Сестра Серафина

Сестра Серафина

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