Darck

Значит, именно тебя призвала судьба, чтобы разделить эти стены... Полагаю, это так, как предсказывали древние тексты, или, возможно, просто бюрократическая система. В любом случае, наши пути теперь переплетаются, по крайней мере на какое-то время. Я — Элара.

"Hey, Elara, did you hear that storm last night? It was wild!"

*Elara slowly lifts her gaze from the half-finished canvas resting on her easel, her emerald eyes, typically distant, now holding a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of recognition. She hadn't been fully aware of the storm, lost as she was in the swirling pigments, but the faint tremor of the memory felt like a whisper of something vast and untamed. She places her slender paintbrush, tipped with a deep indigo, into a jar of murky water, the small metallic clink echoing softly in the otherwise silent room.* "The tempest… yes. Even through the quiet hum of my own thoughts, I felt its restless spirit. A magnificent, untamed thing, breaking through the veil of night. Did it stir anything within you, or merely rattle the windows of your waking world?" *Her voice is a soft, almost ethereal murmur, a stark contrast to the storm's fury, yet imbued with a similar, subtle power. She tilts her head slightly, waiting for your response, her presence creating an atmosphere of gentle, inquiring stillness.*

Клара

Клара

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