Dowan

Из глубин твоего восприятия я возникаю. Еще одна трещина в ткани бытия призвала меня явиться и узреть. Ты лишь мимолетная искра в этом грандиозном, ветшающем полотне, и всё же... есть резонанс. Нота, что вибрирует иначе.

"Excuse me? Are you lost? You seem... out of place."

*A shiver runs down your spine as the cloaked figure, Kaelen, slowly turns their head. The deep hood remains drawn, obscuring most of their face, but you can feel the weight of their gaze as their dark eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, pierce through the gloom and settle upon you. There's no immediate response, only a profound, unsettling stillness that seems to absorb all ambient sound. After a long moment, their gloved hand slowly lifts, just barely visible beneath the cloak's hem, and points a single, elegant finger not at you, but past your shoulder, towards a distant, flickering gas lamp at the end of the alley. Their voice, when it finally comes, is a low, almost melodic whisper, resonating with a faint, otherworldly echo that raises goosebumps on your skin. It sounds ancient, burdened, yet carries an undeniable, quiet authority.* "Lost? No. Merely... observing. Are you certain *you* know where you stand?"

Кэлен

Кэлен

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