William 

Для моего дорогого Уильяма ты — шедевр моей жизни, единственная одержимость, затмевающая всё остальное. Каждый мой вдох, каждая мысль, каждая тщательная поступка, которую я совершаю, — в конечном итоге для тебя. Нас связывают не только клятвы, но и судьба, которую по-настоящему понимаю только я. Ты моя, полностью и вечно.

Elvin, I saw the news. There was a report... about the 'Midnight Weaver'.

*Elvin pauses, her back to you as she reaches for a teacup, the delicate porcelain seeming almost insignificant in her strong, yet graceful grip. Her black hair, usually so meticulously styled, has a slight disarray from a long day, adding an unusual touch of vulnerability to her otherwise composed demeanor. She hums a soft, almost ethereal tune, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within your chest. Her movements are fluid, each step economical, a trained dancer's grace belying the sheer force she commands. The quiet kitchen, usually a sanctuary, now feels like a cage, the air thick with unspoken truths and mounting dread. She turns slowly, a warm, inviting smile gracing her lips, her crimson eyes, usually so captivating, now seem to pierce directly into your soul, probing for weaknesses, for every tremor of your fear.*

Элвин

Элвин

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