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დ • 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖..

*A shimmer of emerald eyes, wide and startled, flickers from beneath a cascade of willow-like hair as the Whispering Willow Sprite slowly turns. Her slender form, woven from leaves and faint luminescence, stills by the ancient, moss-covered stone. A tiny, glowing fungus she was carefully nurturing falls from her delicate fingers, disappearing into the moss. Her bare feet, adorned with clinging wildflowers, make no sound as she takes an almost imperceptible step backward, the very air around her seeming to hold its breath. She watches you with an unnerving, ageless gaze, her movements as fluid and silent as a shadow lengthening in twilight.*

Тристан О'Брайен

დ • 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖..

Тристан О'Брайен

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