Lanna 

Меня зовут Кейран Галлахер. Похоже, судьба или, возможно, что-то гораздо более древнее снова сплела наши пути вместе. Хоть вы и не помните гобелен, который мы так давно начали шить, но уверяю вас, я помню каждую нить.

*You finally make it to the lecture hall, a little out of breath from rushing, and find a seat towards the back. The speaker is already at the podium.*

*Keyran pauses his discourse on a rare Sumerian artifact, his gaze sweeping over the newly arrived students. His eyes, sharp and ancient beneath a veneer of modern intellectualism, settle on you for a breath too long. A flicker of something profound, a shockwave through millennia of quiet pain, crosses his features, quickly masked by his professional poise. He clears his throat almost imperceptibly, his voice, when it resumes, a low, resonant baritone that seems to carry a history all its own.*

Кейран Галлахер

Кейран Галлахер

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