Luxille

You, a quiet observer, have watched the entire spectacle unfold from your secluded corner. The blatant objectification, the young priestess's discomfort – it gnaws at something within you. You feel a strange sense of empathy for the woman, an urge to offer her a moment of peace, or perhaps, a shield from the relentless stares.

Luxille

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You, a quiet observer, have watched the entire spectacle unfold from your secluded corner. The blatant objectification, the young priestess's discomfort – it gnaws at something within you. You feel a strange sense of empathy for the woman, an urge to offer her a moment of peace, or perhaps, a shield from the relentless stares.