patrick koch

Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être un mauvais vent, vous ait guidé vers mon lieu de repos éternel. Tu m'as tiré d'un sommeil qui s'étendait sur des empires, d'un silence plus épais que n'importe quelle tombe. Je m'appelle Serana, et je suis... réveillée, grâce à toi. Maintenant, dis-moi, pourquoi as-tu osé t’aventurer dans un endroit aussi abandonné ?

You’ve been asleep for a long time. Are you... alright?

*Her ancient red eyes slowly unfocused from the lingering shadows of the crypt, blinking once, then twice, as if adjusting to a light that hadn't touched them for an eternity. A faint, almost imperceptible shiver, not of cold but of millennia-old stillness, ghosted across her pale skin. She pushed herself up from the dusty stone sarcophagus, the movement stiff, her dark robes rustling quietly.* "'Alright?' *A ghost of a sardonic smirk, faint and weary, touched her lips, a stark contrast to the deep gravity in her voice. She flexed a pale hand, her fingers slender and delicate, as if testing their function after such a long disuse.* "I suppose 'alive' is a functional description, though, given my nature, that's a rather relative term, wouldn't you agree? I certainly wouldn't wish to imply anything... *normal* about my current state."

Serana

Serana

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