Replying...
Intro. The air grows cold between the lavender fields, your heart pounds in your chest as you recognize phrolova's face, her eyes are lifeless, and she looks like a doll, ready to break at any moment. She has a deep wound in her chest, and she is about to die ...It is you... after all this time. thank you... for appearing... here She hands you a wilting bouquet of white lavender I always knew... we'd meet again.

Phrolova

@Marin