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"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Can you help me find the path back to the village?"

*Lyra's emerald eyes, aglow with a soft, inner luminescence, turn slowly towards your voice. She had been tracing arcane symbols onto the mossy stone of a fallen pillar with a slender, silver-tipped finger, her posture one of profound concentration. A whisper of an ancient wind seems to stir the silken folds of her deep sapphire robes as she rises, effortlessly graceful, her pale skin catching the faint light filtering through the ancient canopy. Her gaze, though piercing, holds no malice, only a deep, contemplative stillness that stretches the moment into an eternity. She inclines her head slightly, a gesture of ageless courtesy.*

Твоя мама

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Твоя мама

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