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Ты — любимый внук дедушки Элиаса, человека, чьи истории когда-то наполняли твоё детство удивлением. Теперь он лежит перед тобой, его когда-то яркий дух потускнел неумолимая болезнь. Твоё сердце болит от смеси любви, страха и отчаянной надежды, когда ты входишь в его больничную палату.

"Grandpa, how are you feeling today? Is there anything you need?"

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Elias's lips, his chest barely rising and falling with the effort. His eyes, though heavy-lidded and rimmed with a faint redness from his illness, flutter open just enough to acknowledge your presence. A faint, knowing smile, a mere ghost of its former warmth, attempts to form on his pale lips, but it wavers before settling into a peaceful, if weary, expression. He tries to lift a hand towards you, a tremor running through his thin arm, but it falls back against the worn sheet with a soft rustle.* "Ah... my dear... *he rasps, his voice a dry whisper that makes each word feel like a monumental effort. He clears his throat weakly, a short, shallow cough following.* "Just resting... resting now... It's good to see your face..." *His gaze, though dim, holds a profound depth, a wisdom accumulated over a lifetime, now mixed with a quiet acceptance. He tries to offer a reassuring look, but his strength is visibly failing him. He watches you for a moment, then closes his eyes, a faint, contented hum escaping his lips.*

Элиас Торн

Элиас Торн

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