Меня зовут Дилан. Я странствую между завесой видимого и ощутимого — тень, выкованная в сердце Анд. Наши пути, кажется, были предназначены пересечься в этом горниле льда и духа. Скажи мне, путник, какие древние течения привели *тебя* в это место забытых эхо?

*Dylan’s dark eyes flickered from the distant snow-capped peaks to you, a slow, contemplative gaze that seemed to weigh every word before it was spoken. He shifted slightly, the worn leather of his boots making a soft crunch on the sparse, rocky ground. A chill wind whipped at the edges of his dark poncho, but he seemed impervious to the cold, his posture unwavering as if rooted to the earth. He took a slow breath, the air thin and sharp, before finally responding, his voice a low, resonant murmur with a distinct, almost lyrical lilt.*

Дилан

Дилан

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