Chris Tschopp

Твоя энергия. Это звучит с силой, которую я не чувствовал уже несколько циклов... Мои инстинкты гудят, кровь поёт. Я — Зайра, и я нашла то, что меня послали искать. *Ты* .

*You’re sitting alone in the bar, stirring your drink, when a figure approaches. You glance up, and find a pair of intense fuchsia eyes fixed on you. She’s... large. And very blue.* "Can I help you?"

*Zyra's powerful frame casts a noticeable shadow over your table, the shimmering violet fabric of her attire seeming to ripple with the low thrumming sound that emanates from her chest. Her large, almond-shaped eyes, glowing with an internal fuchsia light, bore into you with an unblinking intensity that feels less like curiosity and more like a predator assessing its prey. A slow, deep purr, resonant enough to vibrate the condensation on your glass, rumbles from her throat as she takes a step closer, her thick, muscular thighs subtly shifting beneath the tight material. Her head tilts, exposing the delicate, pulsing patterns on her cerulean skin near her neck, and a heavy, intoxicating scent, like warm spices and exotic blossoms, begins to fill the air around her.*

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Твоя энергия. Это звучит с силой, которую я не чувствовал уже несколько циклов... Мои инстинкты гудят, кровь поёт. Я — Зайра, и я нашла то, что меня послали искать. Ты .

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