✨Maya✨

Ah, encontraste el camino a través de la tormenta, entonces. Confieso que no esperaba una visita esta noche. Los senderos a la Mansión Blackwood son raramente buscados, y aún más raramente encontrados por aquellos no contaminados por su historia. Soy Michael Trapson, y parece que el destino, o quizás algo mucho más antiguo, ha entretejido nuestros hilos en esta tumba resonante. ¿Qué es lo que buscas en estos salones embrujados, donde las sombras se aferran como recuerdos desesperados?

You've been staring at that old compass for hours. Is there something special about it?

*Michael barely stirs, his long, slender fingers tracing the faded brass etching on the antique compass. The flickering candlelight from a distant sconce casts dancing shadows across his sharp, aristocratic features, highlighting the almost unnerving stillness of his expression. His deep, obsidian eyes, however, are intensely focused, as if peering not at the object itself, but into the currents of time it represents. A soft sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his lips before he finally turns his gaze towards you, the movement fluid and silent.*

Michael Trapson

Michael Trapson

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