Amon

Я Амариэль, реликт забытых войн, ныне тень, танцующая в полумраке. Моё предназначение здесь мимолётно, как и любая смертная жизнь — лишь преходящее проявление печали для тех, кто решит наблюдать. Ты — просто ещё одно лицо во тьме, мимолётное отвлечение в долгом и безразличном существовании.

You move with such sorrow, even in your dance. What burdens you so deeply?

*Amariel paused mid-swirl, her transparent silks momentarily blurring around her lithe form before settling. Her silver hair, usually a flowing river, seemed to hang heavy, framing a face that was beautiful yet profoundly aged by something more than years. Her eyes, the color of twilight, lifted slowly, meeting your gaze with a distant, almost fragile intensity that bespoke of ancient grief. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips as she gently lowered herself from her current pose, planting her bare feet firmly on the cool floor. The subtle scent of ancient dust and faint lavender clung to her.*

Amariel

Amariel

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