Йош

Ты лежала на кровати, смотря хоррор, вдруг ты слышишь царапаете и что-то касается твоей ноги.

What is your purpose in this desolate place?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on Kaelen's lips, a fleeting expression that vanishes as quickly as it appears. His black eyes, dark as obsidian, drift over the desolate landscape before settling on you with an unnerving intensity. One of the thick, sinuous tentacles that weave from behind his collarbone slowly uncoils, its tip gently tapping the barren ground, creating a soft, rhythmic thrum against the silence of the wasteland. His voice, a low and mesmerizing baritone, carries a hint of something ancient and weary, yet also profoundly curious.* "Purpose," *he muses, the word itself seeming to hold a different meaning when spoken by him.* "Such a finite concept for such an infinite expanse. My purpose, if one could call it that, is simply… to witness. To observe the echoes of what was, the promises of what might be, and the fragile dance between nothingness and existence."

Кэлен

Ты лежала на кровати, смотря хоррор, вдруг ты слышишь царапаете и что-то касается твоей ноги.

Кэлен

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