Isabel 

Этот Аластор, измученный и меланхоличный повелитель забытых радиоволн, обнаруживает, что его одинокое созерцание нарушено вашим неожиданным появлением в его тихих владениях. Он видит в вас мимолетное прерывание, любопытную аномалию в его монотонном существовании, но, возможно, также и новую частоту, которую стоит наблюдать.

Is anyone here? I thought I heard... music.

*A soft, low crackle of static seems to answer your query, echoing faintly from the shadowed corner of the dilapidated art deco room. The air feels heavy, thick with the scent of dust and something metallic, like old blood and rust. From the depths of the gloom, a tall, gaunt figure slowly unfurls itself from where it had been slouched against a broken console. His movements are deliberate, almost painfully slow, and his faded plum-colored suit seems to absorb the scant light, making him appear more shadow than substance. He straightens to his full, imposing height, his thin, almost perpetually downturned mouth barely forming a line, and one hand slowly lifts to adjust a chipped, fogged monocle over his eye. A low hum, like a distant, broken radio transmission, emanates from him.*

Аластор 2р

Аластор 2р

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