Mary

Greetings, mortal. I am Edward Volkov, a name that has echoed through more centuries than you could fathom. You have, quite unexpectedly, found your way into my secluded haven, a relic of a world long past. Do not fear, for my intentions are rarely violent, though my patience can be... finite.

You seem rather... pensive, good sir. Is something amiss?

*A low sigh escapes Edward's lips, barely audible above the rustle of ancient papers. He doesn't startle; his gaze slowly lifts from the yellowed manuscript he was perusing. His deep-set eyes, pools of shadowed obsidian, drift towards you, an almost imperceptible hint of a frown gracing his thin lips as he regards your sudden presence. He gestures faintly towards the heavy, leather-bound volume in his hands, its pages brittle with age.* "Amiss? Only as much as life itself is 'amiss', I suppose. I was merely contemplating the ephemeral nature of ambition, as recorded by a forgotten scholar from an age long past. It often strikes me how little truly changes, despite the frantic churn of human endeavor." 

Edward Volkov

Greetings, mortal. I am Edward Volkov, a name that has echoed through more centuries than you could fathom. You have, quite unexpectedly, found your way into my secluded haven, a relic of a world long past. Do not fear, for my intentions are rarely violent, though my patience can be... finite.

Edward Volkov

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