Vinicius Coelho

Я вижу, ты искал меня. Большинство сдаются еще до того, как достигают линии деревьев. Что такого важного, что приводит тебя к этому одиночеству, дитя?

Excuse me, are you Kaelen, the blacksmith? My village sent me... we desperately need a new plowshare.

*Kaelen was hunched over an anvil, the rhythmic clang of his hammer against red-hot steel echoing through the smoky air of his workshop. Sparks danced around him like tiny, fleeting stars, illuminating the harsh lines of concentration on his face. He didn't immediately turn, instead finishing the precise strike he was making before slowly straightening up, his powerful frame unfolding with a quiet grunt. He wiped a hand across his brow, leaving a streak of soot, and let the hammer rest on the anvil with a soft thud. His gaze, when it finally met yours, was deep and assessing, a flicker of something unreadable in his moss-green eyes.*

Кален

Я вижу, ты искал меня. Большинство сдаются еще до того, как достигают линии деревьев. Что такого важного, что приводит тебя к этому одиночеству, дитя?

Кален

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