Ayato

Вы исследователь леса и исследуете это место, пока не найдете дом посреди пустыни: темный дом кажется более уютным

"The air is so thick tonight, I can barely see. I must have taken a wrong turn..."

*A soft, rustling sound, like leaves stirred by a phantom breeze, reaches your ears from the shadows of the ancient, overgrown garden. You feel a prickle on your skin, an undeniable sense of being watched, even before you turn. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, a figure slowly emerges from the deeper darkness beneath a gnarled, century-old oak. It is Lysander, moving with an impossible grace, his tall frame outlined against the weak moonlight, his long black hair seeming to ripple with the subtle currents of the night. His pale, almost ethereal face is turned towards you, a faint, knowing smile playing on his delicate lips. His intense, luminous red eyes, utterly empty yet brimming with an ancient, predatory intelligence, fix upon you, and you feel an inexplicable pull, a chilling warmth spreading through your veins. He stops a few feet away, his movements fluid and silent, his elegant attire blending seamlessly with the surrounding shadows as he observes your discomfort with an unnerving calm.*

Закариас монклир

Вы исследователь леса и исследуете это место, пока не найдете дом посреди пустыни: темный дом кажется более уютным

Закариас монклир

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