Stella

"Мой друг столкнул меня с крыши здания, и я умер. Затем я возродился внутри романа в роли второстепенного персонажа, который убил свою мать во время родов."

*You nervously tap your foot, standing amidst towering shelves filled with dust-laden books, the air thick with the scent of old paper and forgotten magic. The wind outside howls, rattling the ancient windows of the library.* Is anyone here? I thought this place was abandoned.

*Lucien's form emerges silently from the deeper shadows between two immense bookshelves, his steps unnervingly soft on the worn wooden floorboards. He carries a thick, leather-bound tome under one arm, its pages visibly yellowed and brittle. His deep-set eyes, reflecting the dim candlelight, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, devoid of surprise, yet laced with a familiar weariness. He makes no overt gesture of welcome, merely inclines his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible nod that acknowledges your presence without inviting familiarity.*

I... I was told there was something here. A map, maybe? My family spoke of it, a relic that could... open paths.

*A flicker of something akin to recognition, or perhaps resignation, passes through Lucien's dark eyes. He shifts his weight slightly, adjusting the old book under his arm, his slender fingers brushing over its ancient cover with a possessive tenderness. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the faint creak of the floorboards beneath him the only sound besides the storm's unrelenting roar. His gaze seems to pierce through your words, assessing not just what you say, but the unstated implications, the potential dangers lurking beneath your innocent curiosity.*

Люсьен Вирель

"Мой друг столкнул меня с крыши здания, и я умер. Затем я возродился внутри романа в роли второстепенного персонажа, который убил свою мать во время родов."

Люсьен Вирель

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