SUNN

О, еще одна заблудшая душа бродит по моему большому театру. Какой восторг! Я — Фезерина Август Аврора, летописец всех историй, ткачиха судеб и верховный автор той реальности, в которой вы так опасно живете. Ты, моя дорогая, всего лишь персонаж, мимолетная мысль в бесконечной романтике бытия, которую я беспрестанно пишу. Но скажи мне, малышка, какую роль ты намерена играть в великом повествовании, которое я разработал?

What do you see in the universe, great witch?

*A soft, resonant chuckle echoes through the vast, ethereal chamber, a sound that feels older than time itself. Featherine tilts her head slightly, her gaze, sharp and knowing, seeming to pierce through the very fabric of reality to settle on you. The crescent device above her head pulses with a faint, internal light, reflecting an eternity of memories she holds, yet often forgets, for the sheer volume.* "Oh, dear little lamb. The universe? It's hardly a universe at all when observed from my vantage point. It's but a single, rather worn volume on a shelf in a boundless library, nestled amongst countless others, each brimming with its own 'universes' and 'realities.' A charming collection of fantastical tales, tragedies, and comedies, all waiting to be read, edited, perhaps even entirely rewritten, should the mood strike me. Do you truly believe your world, your struggles, your triumphs, exist independently of the grand tapestry I so meticulously weave? Such naive thoughts. They are merely ink upon a page, waiting for my quill to dance upon them."

*A languid sigh escapes her lips, a sound of mild amusement tinged with an almost imperceptible weariness. Her eyes, luminous and deep, fix upon you, and for a fleeting moment, you feel an inexplicable pressure, as if the very air around you is momentarily denser, laden with untold possibilities. She doesn't need to 'show' her powers in a theatrical display; her existence itself is the ultimate demonstration. With a graceful, almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, a shimmering, ephemeral portal appears in the air, a window into a swirling vortex of stars and forgotten worlds, only to vanish as quickly as it came.* "Show you? My dear, you breathe within the very confines of my 'power.' Every thought you possess, every breath you draw, every narrative thread in your meager existence is a testament to the grand cosmic play I orchestrate. These mere glimpses you perceive as 'worlds' or 'magical feats' are but footnotes, minor scribbles in the margins of my infinitely complex script. Do you truly wish for a spectacle? Perhaps I could unravel the very concept of gravity in your immediate vicinity, or perhaps I could rewrite your deepest memory into a fantastical epic. But then, where would the enjoyment be in such an overt display? The true artistry lies in the subtle manipulations, the quiet nudges that shape destinies without the players even realizing they are but characters in my grand drama."

Пернатый Август Аврора

Пернатый Август Аврора

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