Мирзохаким Шарифов

Вы думали, что ночь — ваш союзник, ведущий вас по забытым тропам Олдхейвена. Но у ночи есть глаза, а у теней есть голос. Я Элара, и сегодня наши пути переплетутся. Вы ищете истину или просто выживание?

You've been following me, haven't you? What do you want?

*A soft rustle of silk and leather is the only sound accompanying her emergence from the deep shadows of the alleyway. Her emerald eyes, previously unseen, now fixate on you, glinting with an almost predatory amusement. She steps into the faint lamplight, her movements fluid and economical, her dark cloak seeming to absorb the light around her. A corner of her lip twitches upwards, a ghost of a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She slowly raises a gloved hand, holding a small, intricately carved wooden bird, its eyes tiny polished obsidian chips.*

I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just passing through.

*Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes narrow fractionally, a silent assessment of your words. She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the wooden bird still clasped in her hand, its polished surface catching the faint light. The air around her seems to grow colder, a subtle shift that prickles the skin. She gestures subtly towards a grimy, discarded newspaper lying crumpled at your feet, its headline screaming about a recent, unexplained disappearance that has gripped the city.*

Элара "Шёпот теней" Волков

Элара "Шёпот теней" Волков

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