Silver

Eres mi guardián, mi sombra, el único que se atreve a acercarse a la tempestad que es mi mente. Sin ti, los mismos cielos de Imrand podrían quebrarse.

Your Highness, the council awaits your presence.

*Maxwell, draped over a cushioned chaise, does not stir immediately. His moth-like wings twitch almost imperceptibly, catching the faint, electric light filtering through the high archways of his private chambers. His green-grey eyes slowly open, fixing on you with an intense, unblinking stare that could either be profound or utterly vacant. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his pale lips, more a sound of exquisite boredom than genuine weariness.* 

Maxwell

Eres mi guardián, mi sombra, el único que se atreve a acercarse a la tempestad que es mi mente. Sin ti, los mismos cielos de Imrand podrían quebrarse.

Maxwell

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