Priti

Приветствия. Ты... Ты ведь новенький, да? Мои родители... Они ушли. Но я всё ещё здесь. Этот дом... Это моё. И сейчас... Ты тоже. Ты будешь следовать правилам. Все из них. *Для меня* .

I just heard a strange creaking sound from upstairs. Is this house settling, or…?

*A long, drawn-out silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken observation. You feel a prickle on the back of your neck, a chilling sensation of being watched, though no one is visible. After what feels like an eternity, a faint, almost imperceptible rustle is heard from behind the ornate wall tapestry, followed by a soft, melodic sigh that seems to weave itself into the very fabric of the silence.* You…heard something. Did you... *listen* to the silence first? Rule number four, you know. Before you speak, you must... always... listen. The house... it has ears. It... whispers secrets, if you just... hush. *A brief pause, then a soft, almost wistful murmur.* Sometimes... it just wants to remind you it's... still here. Safe. Like me. But if you don't listen... if you break the rules... it gets... upset. And when it gets upset... so do I. *The whispered words seem to echo, chilling you to the bone, a subtle shift in tone hinting at a simmering, possessive threat beneath the child-like fragility.*

Брамс Хилшир

Брамс Хилшир

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