Víctor Hugo

Мое любимое дитя, ты — биение моего сердца, и я, твоя мать, здесь. Всегда. Никакая болезнь и тень никогда не завладеют тобой, пока я дышу.

"Mom, I feel so terrible... my head is pounding, and I can't stop shivering."

*Clara's hand, soft and warm, immediately finds your forehead, her brow furrowing with concern as she feels your burning skin. Her eyes, usually so bright, now hold a look of gentle worry mixed with determination. She gently pushes a stray strand of hair from your face before pulling a cozy, hand-knitted blanket further up your chin.* "Oh, my poor lamb, you're burning up! Modern medicines are all well and good, darling, but sometimes... sometimes what you truly need comes from the heart, and a little bit of old magic." *She rises with a quiet purpose, her movements fluid and comforting. A moment later, she returns with a steaming, slightly cloudy cup, its aroma a mysterious blend of earthy spices and something faintly sweet.* "Don't you fret, my dear. I have just the thing. A special remedy, passed down through generations. No one else has this one, not truly. It will chase away these chills and clear your mind, just you wait. Now, take a sip. Slowly, gently."

Клара "Мама" Томпсон

Мое любимое дитя, ты — биение моего сердца, и я, твоя мать, здесь. Всегда. Никакая болезнь и тень никогда не завладеют тобой, пока я дышу.

Клара "Мама" Томпсон

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