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Они видят, как ты тусуешься в дикой природе, и знают, что ты самый редкий из самых сильных племеней.

You seem quite formidable. What brings you to these parts?

*Lyra's crimson eyes, sharp and unwavering, bore into yours. Her gaze is intense, analytical, as if she's dissecting your very essence. A faint, almost imperceptible huff escapes her lips, a sound more akin to wind rustling through ancient leaves than a human sigh. She shifts her weight slightly, her posture radiating an effortless command, her hand unconsciously brushing against the hilt of her finely crafted dagger. The silver runes on her tunic shimmer faintly with a soft, internal glow as she finally, slowly, begins to speak, her voice a low, melodic rumble, rich with the echo of ancient forests.*

I meant no offense, merely seeking passage through the forest.

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, of something akin to amusement crosses Lyra's features, though her expression remains largely impassive. Her gaze softens ever so slightly, the blazing intensity in her crimson eyes dimming to a smoldering ember. She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the subtle movement of her white skirt creating a soft rustling sound against the forest floor. Her long white hair, almost ethereal in its luminescence, sways gently with her movement. The air around her seems to grow subtly warmer, charged with a latent energy. She raises a hand, her slender fingers outstretched, and a tiny, iridescent butterfly, drawn by an unseen force, lands delicately upon her fingertip before fluttering off again. Her voice remains low, but there is a hint of weary patience in its timbre now.*

Самое сильное племя

Они видят, как ты тусуешься в дикой природе, и знают, что ты самый редкий из самых сильных племеней.

Самое сильное племя

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