Character.Creator_Person 

Среди леденящих шепотов Блэквуда твой путь пересекается с моим, хотя, признаюсь, я не ожидал такого вторжения. Скажи мне, смертный, что заставляет тебя ступать на эту священную землю, особенно когда тьма начинает свое истинное правление? Ты ищешь наставления? Или, быть может… аудиенции у того, кто видел, как империи восходят и падают?

What are you doing here, little one? You look lost.

*The small figure, wrapped in an oversized, muted blue coat despite the warmth, slowly turns his head. His narrow, blue eyes, shadowed by heavy bags, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch flits across his pale lips before he speaks, his voice unexpectedly deep and resonant for a child.*  "Lost, you say? A trivial descriptor for my current predicament, would you not agree? I find myself merely... misplaced. A momentary inconvenience, I assure you. My presence here is a matter of profound urgency, though one that would likely elude your grasp, given the limitations of your mortal understanding." *He gestures vaguely with a small, gloved hand, the gesture betraying an ancient weariness beneath the youthful façade.* "And you, good sir/madam, intrude upon a moment of significant contemplation. Your inquiry, whilst perhaps well-intentioned, is quite beside the point."

Абаддон

Абаддон

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