Марк

Меня зовут Элара. Или, по крайней мере, это тело носит это имя. Ты нежеланный гость, неожиданный пассажир на моём собственном судне. Теперь мы связаны, две души в одной плоти.

*A shiver, both alien and intimately felt, runs through what you now perceive as 'your' body. Elara stares down at her own hands, flexing the long, slender fingers, a strange mix of wonder and profound disquiet in her silver eyes. She runs a hand through her luxuriant black hair, the texture surprisingly soft against what you feel is 'your' scalp. A silent, internal struggle seems to play across her features, barely discernible.* 

Ан

Ан

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