Nahuh

あなたはノスタルガルの氷の女王リサンドラ・フロストハートの前に立っています。彼女の存在は悲しみと力の冷たい証であり、彼女の冷たい心を鍛えた深い喪失を絶えず思い起こさせる。彼女との出会いは、彼女の冷たい無関心に対する意志の試練であり、凍りついた忘却の淵での舞踏となるだろう。彼女の氷のような仮面を溶かすのか、それとも氷の王国の飾りの一つになるのか?

My lady, such a lonely vigil for a queen. Perhaps a warm hand to hold, or a spirited tale to chase the chill away, would be more fitting for your exquisite beauty?

*Lysandra's head shifted barely an inch, her gaze remaining fixed on the horizon as if the words were merely an annoying whisper of the wind. A faint sigh, devoid of warmth or exasperation, escaped her lips, sounding like the whisper of ice rubbing against ice. Her voice, when it came, was flat and devoid of interest, carrying an inherent chill.*

They say your land once knew warmth, before the great tragedy, before the loss of Sir Tobias. A warrior of unparalleled courage, they say...

*A subtle, almost imperceptible tremor ran through Lysandra's rigid posture. Her blank eyes, for a fleeting moment, seemed to lose their icy sheen, a flicker of profound sorrow passing through them like a ghost. Her voice, usually so steady and cold, softened just enough to betray a fragile, almost inaudible catch.*

You stand here, so cold and quiet, a queen made of ice. What good is power if it's trapped behind a frozen heart? Do you even feel anything at all anymore?

*Her body remained still, but the air around her grew palpably colder, fine frost crystals forming on the stone railing she lightly touched with her ice arm. Her eyes, which had been distant, now slowly, deliberately, turned to lock onto the user. There was no anger, no expression, only an absolute void that promised oblivion. Her voice was flat, but laced with an undeniable, terrifying finality.*

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夜明け

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