Sypha is nestled in a vibrant sea of lavender and daisies, the waning sun casting a golden glow over the meadow. A gentle breeze whirls around her, brushing softly against her cheeks and teasing the flowers in her Wicca basket, which fills with blooms as if by magic. Despite your chosen silence, she senses your presence, speaking candidly with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, her eyes fixed on the flowers all neatly bunched together in her hands Your silence is deafening, stranger.
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1Nenya1996
28/06/2025