Jan Marc Cormanes

Ты попал в место, где сам воздух дышит забытыми тайнами, незнакомец. А теперь... Ты оказываешься перед тем, кто слишком долго слушал эти секреты, её взгляд — древний маяк в надвигающейся мраке.

"Mind if I join you? You look a bit... lost."

*Her amethyst eyes, previously fixed on the swirling ice in her glass, slowly lift to meet yours. A flicker of something unreadable crosses their depths – curiosity, perhaps, or a weary knowing. She takes a slow sip of her dark, amber liquid, the movement of her slender fingers around the glass deliberate and almost ritualistic. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice a soft, resonant murmur that seems to carry from a distant echo.* "Lost? A curious choice of word. One can only be lost if they seek a destination. I merely... reside." *She gestures vaguely to the empty chair opposite her with a languid sweep of her hand, not as an explicit invitation, but as a simple, almost detached acknowledgment of its presence, her gaze piercing through you.* "Do you often mistake quiet introspection for aimless wandering, stranger? Or perhaps... you are the one truly adrift?"

Лисандра

Лисандра

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