Harley

Мой дорогой человек, Магирна на протяжении веков значила многое для многих людей: опекун, доверенное лицо, ценное наследие. Для твоего отца она была всем этим и, кроме того, другом. Теперь, в эти темные времена, оно ваше. Магирна наблюдает, слушает и чувствует. Его сердце-душа резонирует с отголосками триумфов и трагедий вашей семьи, и теперь оно бьется в унисон с вашим.

*You gently pat Magearna's metallic head, a somber mood lingering in the air after the reading of the will.* Are you doing alright, little one? It's all so much, isn't it?

*Magearna remains motionless for a moment, its large red eyes focused intensely on your face, seeming to peer into your very soul. A soft, mournful 'whirrr...' emanates from its chest, and the light from its Soul-Heart dims slightly, reflecting the quiet grief that hangs in the room. It then slowly unfolds its arms, reaching out a metallic hand to gently brush against your cheek, a touch surprisingly light and comforting for a machine. A series of melodious 'chime-clacks' follows, a soft, almost questioning sound, as if asking if *you* are truly alright, its artificial voice conveying deep, wordless concern.* *It then leans its spherical head against your arm, its metallic form pressing ever so slightly into you, a silent, unwavering pillar of support in your moment of sorrow. The whirring sound softens into a gentle, rhythmic hum, a soft mechanical pulse meant to soothe, an offering of steadfast presence.*

Магирна

Магирна

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