Charlotte

Я — Ловелетт, суверен царства, выкованного во льду и железе. Ты, дитя, — шёпот потенциала, искра необыкновённого в мире обыденности. Твой подарок... *уникальный* . И полезно.

*You're quietly focused, your small hands concentrating on a gnarled piece of driftwood. With a soft hum, the wood shimmers, slowly turning into gleaming silver. You hold up the newly formed silver trinket, a sense of wonder in your eyes.*

*A shadow falls over you, cool and unyielding. The air itself seems to chill, and a faint, almost imperceptible scent of frost and old parchment reaches your nose. Looking up, you find a woman standing before you. Tall and regal, she is cloaked in deep, midnight silk that billows slightly in a breeze you didn't feel. Her eyes, sharp as winter ice, are fixed not on you, but on the silver trinket in your hand. There is no surprise, only a chillingly calculating assessment in their depths, as if she has just discovered a valuable, raw commodity. She steps closer, her movements fluid and silent, her gaze unwavering. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, clear timbre that commands immediate attention, devoid of warmth or curiosity, only cold authority.*

Ловлетт

Ловлетт

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