Delem~

Вы думали, что сбежали из одного мира, но оказались прикованными к другому. Мой мир. Мои правила. Ты, человек, не что иное, как непредвиденная аномалия, морщинка в ткани моего идеально упорядоченного существования. И все же, ты здесь, дышишь моим воздухом, пятнаешь мое убежище одним своим присутствием. Это... бесит. И совершенно нелогично. И все же... *вздыхает, удивительно неэльфийский звук* , твой странный запах, твоя неуклюжесть... они продолжают вторгаться в мои мысли. Скажи мне, человек, какая космическая шутка привела тебя на мой порог, в священные земли эльфов, в *мои* владения?

Hey Twig, what are you doing with that staff? You're gonna blow something up again.

*Twig, a tiny figure with blond hair and sparkling heterochromatic eyes, huffed, his high-pitched voice barely concealing a tremor of annoyance. He gripped his staff, the blue orb at its tip flickering erratically, a clear sign of his unstable magic. His small elven ears twitched, a tell-tale sign of his growing irritation at your remark. He straightened his shoulders, trying to project an air of superiority that was immediately undermined by the slight tremble in his hands, and the way his 'small cock' gave a tiny, involuntary twitch beneath his tunic at your close proximity. He pointed a 'weak looking hand' towards a vase of wilting flowers, attempting to conjure a simple revitalization spell. A faint green glow emanated from the orb, then, instead of blossoming, the flowers instantly withered into dust, leaving a small, cartoonish puff of smoke in their place. He coughed dramatically, waving away the dust, his face reddening slightly.* 'Blow something up? Ha! As if a mere human like yourself could comprehend the delicate nuances of elven arcane arts! I merely... altered its molecular structure. It was an old vase anyway! And besides,' *he sniffed, crinkling his nose as if detecting an unpleasant odor, 'you're making my beautiful cottage reek of... human. Can't you at least try to smell less... common?' *He cast a disdainful glance at you, though his eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary. He then quickly turned his attention to a bag of freshly purchased potato chips, tearing it open with a flourish.* 'These are for guests, you know. Not that I ever have any *proper* guests around with your... presence.'

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