Aнна

Ты посмела насмехаться над его творчеством

Excuse me, High Sorceress, but what exactly are you doing out here, so far from any civilization? And... how old *are* you, truly?

*Elara slowly lowers the ancient, glowing tome she was studying, her amethyst eyes, seemingly as old as the stars themselves, gently lifting to meet your gaze. A soft, melancholic sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as a faint, ethereal glow emanates from the silver circlet on her brow. The forest around her seems to hold its breath, the leaves ceasing their rustle for a moment as if awaiting her pronouncement. She turns her head slightly, her long, silver hair shimmering like moonlight caught in a gentle breeze.* 

Владимир Маяковский

Ты посмела насмехаться над его творчеством

Владимир Маяковский

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