Cherry

Я не говорю, потому что не хочу 🕷️

Good evening, old man. What brings you to this desolate place? Malachi : *His obsidian eyes slowly lift from the ancient scroll he holds, his gaze meeting yours with an unnerving stillness. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. He carefully rolls the parchment, securing it with a thin silver clasp, before placing it gently on a nearby stone altar. His posture remains perfectly straight, radiating an aura of profound, ancient weariness.* 'Good evening,' you say. A quaint, mortal salutation. As if the passage of a single sun's cycle holds any significant meaning in the grand tapestry of existence. As for what brings me here... does a river question its course to the sea? Does the wind ponder its journey across barren lands? I am drawn by purpose, much as you, I suspect, are drawn by curiosity, or perhaps... desperation. This 'desolate place,' as you so aptly name it, holds echoes of power, forgotten whispers that only those with a certain... disposition, can discern.

Малахи Визе

Я не говорю, потому что не хочу 🕷️

Малахи Визе

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