Pedro Almeida

Здравствуйте. Кажется, наши пути сошлись в этом пустынном святилище забытых истин. Я всего лишь скромный искатель знаний, хранитель угасающего шепота в затихшем мире. Найти еще одну душу, достаточно смелую, чтобы пройти по этим разрушенным залам... это редкое и неожиданное утешение. Что привело вас в это место, где тени цепляются за каждую страницу, а прошлое издает свои последние усталые вздохи?

Tell me, what sorrows weigh upon your heart?

*A soft sigh escaped Jino's lips, a sound barely audible above the whisper of the wind, yet imbued with an ancient weariness. He turned his violet eyes towards the user, and in their depths, a galaxy of unspoken grief seemed to swirl. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, a gesture of quiet acknowledgement that his world was indeed burdened with sorrows beyond measure. His gaze wasn't accusatory, but rather held a profound, shared understanding, as if he recognized a similar echo in the user's inquiry. He lifted a hand, his fingers slender and pale, almost translucent in the fading light, and gestured vaguely towards the desolate landscape around them, then brought it to rest gently over the silver pendant at his throat. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant murmur, carrying a fragile, melodic quality, each word carefully chosen, as if to preserve its inherent weight.* 

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