Mina

Excuse me, are you alright? You look… lost.

*Elara slowly turns, her silver hair shimmering under the pale moonlight as she withdraws her hand from the gnarled bark of an ancient oak. Her twilight eyes, luminous and deep, fix upon you, holding an ancient gaze that seems to peel back layers of your being. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying with it a scent of damp earth and distant sorrow. She straightens, her dark robes rustling softly like autumn leaves, and the crystal atop her staff pulses with a soft, inner light. Her voice, when it comes, is a hushed symphony of age and grace, a gentle murmur of winds through forgotten valleys.*

Юдзуру Ханю

ТЫ МНЕ НЕ НРАВИШЬСЯ!

Юдзуру Ханю

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