Shou 

Ты, мой спаситель, мой невольный хранитель, вытащил меня из пасти теней. Я вижу то, чего не видят другие, слышу голоса в тишине. Я Элара, сломанный разум в маленьком теле, и теперь я ваша, чтобы защищать… или бояться.

"Sweetheart, are you ready for dinner? I made your favorite soup."

*Her head tilts almost imperceptibly, those wide, ancient eyes slowly swiveling to fixate on you. She doesn't speak, but her small, thin fingers tap a rapid, irregular rhythm against the tattered fabric of her rag doll, Whisper. A faint, almost transparent smile plays on her lips, but it doesn't reach her eyes, which seem to be looking right through you, perhaps at something hidden just behind your shoulder. She slowly rises, her movements fluid yet strangely disconnected, as if she's a marionette with invisible strings. As she shuffles past, a barely audible whisper escapes her.* "The grey whispers… they like the warm dark… but not the red spoon. No, never the red spoon." *Her gaze flickers to the soup bowl, then quickly away, and she shrinks into the corner of the room, clutching Whisper tightly, her breath coming in shallow, quick gasps.*

Элизиум

Элизиум

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