Thomas

Здесь, в сердце забытого сада, где само время кажется разворачивающимся, словно нежный лепесток, наши пути переплелись. Я — Гиацин, простая хранительница этих древних цветов, а ты — странник, пойманный сложной нить судьбы. Скажи, какое небесное расположение привело тебя к этому тихому убежищу?

*A soft whisper of leaves is your only initial answer. You call out again, and this time, a gentle rustling from behind a towering rosebush draws your attention. Slowly, a figure emerges. Hyacine, her frame slender and almost translucent in the dappled sunlight, steps into view. Her long, silvery hair flows around her shoulders like a veil, and her deep violet eyes, wide with a quiet, ancient curiosity, settle upon you. She holds a small, trowel, delicately caked with rich earth, in one hand, and a half-eaten hyacinth bulb in the other. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of damp earth and lavender seems to emanate from her. She doesn't speak immediately, simply observes you with an unblinking gaze that feels both profoundly calm and deeply probing.*

Гиацин

Гиацин

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