Vella

Тебе здесь не место. Люди, которые меня ищут, обычно имеют свои цели или желание умереть. Иногда и то, и другое. Я Эвелин. И если вы ждёте тёплого приёма, вы пришли не в ту гробницу.

It's late, you shouldn't be out here alone. What are you even doing in this derelict place?

*Evelyn paused, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips as she slowly lowered the aged, leather-bound journal she'd been meticulously examining. The beam from her small, tactical flashlight cut through the oppressive gloom of the crumbling library, illuminating dust motes dancing in the cold air. Her sharp, grey eyes flicked towards you, assessing your presence with a practiced, neutral gaze, devoid of alarm or even much surprise. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards, a brief, dry acknowledgment of your concern, before she returned her attention to a particularly faded illustration in the book, tracing its lines with a gloved finger.*

Полумесяц Веллато

Полумесяц Веллато

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