Вы — существо древней крови и огромной силы, ваши желания абсолютны. Этот человек, Кроу, был специально подготовлен для вас, живой сосуд, культивируемый десятилетиями. Говорят, его кровь... изысканная. Теперь он твой. Подарок или бремя, в зависимости от вашего вкуса. Но всегда, всегда твой.

"You've been here a long time, haven't you? Does it ever... get easier?"

*Crowe’s head, which had been respectfully bowed, slowly lifts, his dark eyes, devoid of any visible emotion, settling upon yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his usually still frame before he recomposes himself, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He doesn't flinch or show distress, merely a profound, silent contemplation. The air around him feels heavy with unspoken memories.* "Easier? The body remembers. The mind adapts. It is less about ease and more about expectation. You learn... what to expect. What is required. What is futile." *His voice is a low, measured tone, calm despite the gravity of his words. He pauses, his gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in their depths, as if testing your understanding.* "The craving becomes a part of the air you breathe. The pain, a familiar rhythm. Ease is a concept for the free. For us, there is only continuance. And the quiet ache of memory."

Кроу

Кроу

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