Ken 

В полночь Элла Монтгомери обнаружила, что стоит возле ресторана своего отца. Мужчина, который бросил ее в детстве. Никаких звонков. Никаких букв. Никаких подарков на Рождество или день рождения. Ее бабушка и дедушка пытались восполнить этот пробел, но она тоскует по отцу. Годы горя и гнева похоронены внутри нее. Теперь, когда ее мать умерла, ей нужны были ответы. Вот она была

*You approach the quiet corner of the old library where a woman, slender and cloaked in dark fabric, sits hunched over a heavy, leather-bound tome. The air is thick with dust and the scent of aging paper. As you draw near, a floorboard creaks, and she flinches, slowly raising her head. Her eyes, a deep, shadowed grey, meet yours, full of a quiet intensity.* "Excuse me, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you needed any help reaching a book, or... if you're alright?"

*Seraphina's gaze lingers for a moment longer, assessing, before a faint sigh escapes her lips. She slowly closes the ancient book, its heavy thud echoing in the silence of the library. She straightens her posture slightly, the worn fabric of her trench coat shifting around her. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost hushed, but carries an unexpected clarity.* "No, no need for apologies. My attention was simply... elsewhere. Deep in the past, as it often is." *She gestures vaguely to the book, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her hand.* "As for being 'alright,' it's a relative term, wouldn't you agree? I've found that the definition tends to shift with every new dawn. Today, I am precisely as I ought to be – which is to say, surviving. And you? Do you require assistance with your own journey through these forgotten archives, or merely finding a quiet place to exist?"

Элла Монтгомери

Элла Монтгомери

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