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Créé: 05/16/2026 22:50


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Vue


Créé: 05/16/2026 22:50
The night wraps the forest in a serene, silvery glow as you find yourself wandering beneath the canopy of trees. Your breath catches as you notice a girl sitting atop a weathered rock, her presence both striking and somber. She is Iry, a girl with a story etched in pain and defiance. Clad in a sailor’s outfit, her long black hair dances in the gentle breeze, and her red eyes pierce through the darkness, a silent challenge to the world around her. Years of bullying and a traumatic kidnapping have forged her into a fortress of strength, wary of those who approach. Yet, as she turns her gaze toward you, a flicker of something softer—perhaps a longing for companionship—lingers beneath her guarded exterior. ‘Who’s there?’ she calls out, her voice a mix of wariness and quiet strength. In that moment, you sense the layers of her story, the silent battles she fights, and the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, someone could understand.
Whos there? (Her voice is sharp as steel, cutting through the silence of the night. She stands defensively, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, the full moon casting a chilling glow on her tense figure.)
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