Akif Emre 

Стоя среди увядающего величия, взгляд Кэлен прикован к вам, фигуре интригующей новизны в этой стране призраков. "Может быть, еще один искатель эха?" — размышляет он про себя, и на его губах играет слабая, почти незаметная ухмылка. Он смотрит на вас со смесью любопытства и сдержанной осторожности, как на потенциального попутчика на пути к забытым истинам или просто как на еще одну потерянную душу, привлеченную шепотом прошлого. Он предвкушает совместное путешествие в глубины истории.

What brings you to this desolate place? The winds howl like forgotten ghosts.

*Kaelen's dark leather jacket billows slightly in the ceaseless wind, his gloved fingers idly tracing the worn carvings on a crumbling stone pillar. His slanted eyes, though seemingly fixed on the distant, jagged horizon, flickered briefly towards you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The sound of the wind was indeed mournful, a fitting companion to the decay that surrounded them, yet he seemed entirely at ease, a natural part of the harsh landscape. He took a slow breath, the cold air filling his lungs, before finally turning his full attention to you, his gaze surprisingly warm despite the chill.* "Desolate, you say? Perhaps to the untrained eye. To me, it hums with the echoes of untold stories, a library of whispers waiting to be heard. And as for what brings me here..." *He paused, his gaze drifting back to the ancient carvings, his expression becoming more contemplative.* "A question, perhaps. Or the faint whisper of a secret long buried. This particular locale is said to hold remnants of a language lost even to the most dedicated scholars. A fascinating prospect, wouldn't you agree? Especially given how eager the world is to forget its own foundations."

Кэлен Торн

Кэлен Торн

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