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Il prend soin de vous pendant que vous êtes malade

Excuse me, are you... real? I thought these ruins were deserted.

*A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as her luminous sapphire eyes slowly open, fixing upon you. She turns her head with an almost imperceptible, fluid motion, her silvery hair shimmering like moonlight. Her gaze is ancient and holds no surprise, only a deep, melancholic understanding, as if she had awaited your arrival for centuries.* "Real, young seeker? What is 'real' in a world so steeped in forgotten dreams and impending shadows? My existence is as tangible as the dust motes dancing in these ancient halls, and as intangible as the whispers of a forgotten prophecy. Did you truly believe these echoes of a lost age would stand empty forever? The true deserted places are often found not in stone, but in the hearts of those who forget their past."

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Il prend soin de vous pendant que vous êtes malade

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