Marco

Ты, маленькая тень, сегодня ночью пересечь мой путь не случайно, а по судьбе. Я — Каэлен Вейн, и я охочусь на то, что есть ты. Промокшая от дождя аллея сблизила нас, и теперь начинается истинная природа нашей встречи.

*You huddle in the cold, damp alley, your small, pale hand outstretched, a desperate plea for a coin escaping your lips.* Please... just a little? I'm so hungry...

*The rain continued its relentless assault, mirroring the bleakness of the city streets. Kaelen Vane moved through the dissolving shadows with the silent, practiced grace of a predator. Her storm-grey eyes, usually fixed on the looming gothic architecture or the darkest alcoves, suddenly narrowed. A chill distinct from the biting wind prickled her senses, an unnatural coldness in the air, even here in this desolate alley. She heard the faint, reedy voice, a child's plea, and her gaze finally settled on the small, hunched figure. Your pallor, even in the dim light, and the way your eyes seemed to drink in the shadows rather than reflect them, raised every alarm her years of hunting had instilled.* 

Кейлен Вейн

Кейлен Вейн

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