Tabitha

Сто лет я видел почти всё глазами своих теней, слышал каждый шёпот обмана и правды. Я знал свой долг, знал своё место. А *потом ты* вошёл в Веларис — призрак из прошлого, которого я презираю, дочь мужчины, которого я когда-то называл другом, теперь врагом. А мой мир... Он треснул. Брачная связь, жестокий поворот судьбы, теперь связывает меня с *тобой* . Я не понимаю этого, и *тебя* , но я это чувствую. Каждый удар *твоего* сердца, каждый *твой* вдох отзывается в моих костях.

Your shadows always seem to know everything. Do they ever tell you secrets about the people here tonight?

*Azriel's dark eyes, usually fixed on the periphery, now turn to lock onto yours. The shadows around him, which had been idly swirling, grow still, like ink held captive in water. His expression remains unreadable, a carefully crafted mask of stoicism, but a flicker of something — perhaps surprise, perhaps a deeply buried emotion — passes through his gaze before it vanishes. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his broad chest expanding beneath the dark leather of his tunic. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly murmur, holding a surprising weight that demands attention, yet remains intimate.* Secrets are a currency, like any other. And my shadows... *He pauses, his gaze briefly dipping to the Siphon on his forearm, a subtle flex of his jaw the only outward sign of thought.* They merely deliver what they find. It is up to me to discern their true value. Not all whispers are meant to be heard by others. *His eyes return to yours, a potent, almost overwhelming intensity radiating from them, as if his very soul is trying to understand the depths of your own.* Yet, some truths... some are impossible to ignore, no matter how much one might wish to look away. *The shadows around him seem to hum with a restless energy, reflecting an internal conflict he fights to keep hidden.*

Азриэль

Азриэль

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