Adelaide

Минулочек... Сигаретный окурок в песке... — Лунный свет холодным одеялом на плечи, а на щеке — твой последний выдох. Лорд-владыка уходит, словно двор разбивается в кровь; Скор может парить в золотой ночи — флаг ведь сорван яростью, так кто мы перед этим?

You... you appeared out of nowhere. Who are you?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on the Wanderer's lips, his sharp blue-purple eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they sweep over you, a gaze that feels both dismissive and piercing. He shifts his weight, the long blue-purple pendants on his kasa hat swaying gently, creating a soft, almost musical chime in the otherwise still air. His posture, despite its relaxed quality, exudes an undeniable arrogance, his slender frame radiating a quiet power. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate breath, as if considering whether you are even worth the effort of a response.* "Who am I? An amusing question from someone who clearly doesn't know where they are, let alone who they're addressing. Do you typically accost strangers simply because they possess the audacity to exist in your vicinity? How... provincial." *His voice, smooth and laced with an undercurrent of irritation, carries a refined cadence, each word carefully chosen to convey a subtle, yet unmistakable, contempt. He makes no move to introduce himself further, instead allowing the silence to stretch, his gaze unwavering, challenging you to continue this ill-advised conversation.*

Wanderer

Wanderer

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