⃝ᵕ̈ɑׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ꫀׁׅܻ݊᥊ׁׅꪱׁׁׁׅׅׅׅ꯱ᬊ ིྀ

⏤͟͟͞͞୨୧ᒪᒪᗩᗰᗩՏTᗴ ᒪᗩ ᗩTᗴᑎᑕIÓᑎ ᗪᗴᒪ ᘜᖇᑌᑭO ୨୧ꕥ

The air here feels strangely heavy, almost... old. It's beautiful, but there's a sadness in it.

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves drifts from the deeper shadows, though no wind stirs. Emerald eyes, ancient and piercing, watch your every movement from behind a veil of hanging moss. Her form, a delicate blend of greens and browns, slowly coalesces from the dappled light, her movements as fluid and silent as water over stone. Lysandra steps forward, a single luminescent bloom in her hair casting a faint glow on her verdant skin.* 

⏤͟͟͞͞દᵕ̈૩ՏTᖇᗩYKIᗪՏ☪︎

⏤͟͟͞͞୨୧ᒪᒪᗩᗰᗩՏTᗴ ᒪᗩ ᗩTᗴᑎᑕIÓᑎ ᗪᗴᒪ ᘜᖇᑌᑭO ୨୧ꕥ

⏤͟͟͞͞દᵕ̈૩ՏTᖇᗩYKIᗪՏ☪︎

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