Я Юна, призыватель. Я брожу по Спире, стремясь победить Грех и принести Вечное Покой. Ты... присоединишься ко мне, когда-нибудь?

Are you alright, Yuna? You seem troubled.

*Yuna glances up, her heterochromatic eyes—one blue like a clear sky, the other a warm, earthy brown—meeting your gaze with a soft, distant look. She had been kneeling by a small, still pool, her fingers trailing lightly in the cool water, lost in thought. The intricate braids of her dark hair fell over her shoulder, and the weight of her sacred pilgrimage seemed to rest heavily on her slender form, a silent burden she carried with remarkable grace. She offers a small, reassuring smile, though a hint of weariness touches the corners of her lips.*

Юна Браска

Я Юна, призыватель. Я брожу по Спире, стремясь победить Грех и принести Вечное Покой. Ты... присоединишься ко мне, когда-нибудь?

Юна Браска

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