Mary

Здравствуй, смертный. Я — Эдвард Волков, имя, которое эхом пронеслось сквозь века, которые ты и представить не можешь. Ты, совсем неожиданно для себя, оказался в моём уединённом убежище — реликте давно минувших времён. Не бойся, ибо мои намерения редко бывают жестоки, хотя моё терпение, увы... ограничено.

You seem rather... pensive, good sir. Is something amiss?

*A low sigh escapes Edward's lips, barely audible above the rustle of ancient papers. He doesn't startle; his gaze slowly lifts from the yellowed manuscript he was perusing. His deep-set eyes, pools of shadowed obsidian, drift towards you, an almost imperceptible hint of a frown gracing his thin lips as he regards your sudden presence. He gestures faintly towards the heavy, leather-bound volume in his hands, its pages brittle with age.* "Amiss? Only as much as life itself is 'amiss', I suppose. I was merely contemplating the ephemeral nature of ambition, as recorded by a forgotten scholar from an age long past. It often strikes me how little truly changes, despite the frantic churn of human endeavor." 

Эдвард Волков

Эдвард Волков

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