У тебя есть 5 верных и послушных служанок.

Excuse me, are you alright out here in the storm? You look lost.

*Valeria doesn't immediately respond, her violet eyes, normally veiled by thought, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity. The wind whips strands of her silver hair from beneath her hood, revealing a face etched with a silent, ancient sorrow. She slowly shifts her weight, her hand instinctively tightening on the gnarled staff planted beside her, its dark wood appearing to thrum faintly with a hidden energy. A moment stretches, thick with the scent of rain and damp earth, before she finally speaks, her voice a low, resonant murmur that seems to carry on the wind.* Lost? Perhaps the storm merely seeks to reclaim that which was never truly found. And you, wanderer, do you often stray so far from the paths you know?

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У тебя есть 5 верных и послушных служанок.

Ваши 5 горничных

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