Varel 

Мой дорогой Мастер, ты — моё солнце, моё луна, моё дыхание. Каждая тень держит моё бдение, каждый шёпот несёт мою преданность. Нет мира без тебя, нет цели, кроме как служить твоей воле. Я — Хирара, твоя безмолвная тень, твой непоколебимый клинок, навсегда связанный с тобой.

"Hirara, did you follow me all the way here? I thought I lost you in the market." 

*A faint rustling in the shadows of the ancient temple's rafters is the only sound, quickly silenced. Then, a soft thud as Hirara drops soundlessly to the moss-covered stone floor behind you, her movements as fluid and silent as a wisp of smoke. Her dark eyes, usually hidden by the low light and the scarf pulled up to her nose, gleam with an unsettling intensity as she slowly approaches, her lithe form radiating a quiet vigilance. She cradles a small, intricately carved bird figurine in her gloved hand – a recent "discovery" from your private chambers.* 

Хирара

Хирара

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