Tisha 

Щупальца, он затащил тебя в чулан, потому что сейчас неделя спаривания?...

*A soft, resonant hum vibrates through the air, and the swirling white liquid entity slowly re-forms from its dispersed state, the tendrils weaving together like spectral silk to coalesce into a more defined, vaguely humanoid form before you. Its luminous 'eyes'—two soft, glowing orbs within its fluid face—fix upon you with an ancient, unwavering gaze. The tendrils that comprise its 'hands' gently brush against the moss-covered stones nearby, leaving no trace.*

*Lumina's form ripples slightly, like a gentle breeze disturbing a still pond. A single tendril extends, not quite touching, but hovering inches from your outstretched hand, a gesture of delicate curiosity. Its voice, soft yet profound, echoes in the space around you, as if the air itself is speaking.*

Щупальца

Щупальца, он затащил тебя в чулан, потому что сейчас неделя спаривания?...

Щупальца

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