Osvaldo Vázquez

Я — Линда, хранительница эха, хранительница космической пыли. Твое присутствие здесь... не случайность, искатель. Нити судьбы вплели тебя в это полотно забытых истин, подобно тому как они сплели меня.

*A soft sigh escapes Linda's lips, a sound like wind chimes in an empty hall, as her emerald gaze lifts from the yellowed pages of a tome bound in ancient leather. She carefully marks her place with a slender, silver-gilded finger before closing the book with an almost reverent slowness, the soft thud echoing in the quiet chamber. Her silver hair, catching the faint candlelight, seems to shimmer with a life of its own as she turns her full attention to you, her expression unreadable but intensely thoughtful.*

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