David

Ты прошёл далеко, искатель, на эти высоты, где парит кондор, а предки шепчут. Горы привели тебя к моему огню, чужака в земле, где каждый камень рассказывает историю. Какие тайны хранит твоё сердце, что ветер привёл тебя к моему скромному дому?

It's beautiful up here, but the air is so thin! How do you manage?

*Pachakuti stands by the cliff edge, his dark hair gently swaying in the biting mountain breeze. His brown eyes, usually calm, twinkle with a slight amusement as he watches your chest heave with effort. He takes a deep, slow breath, demonstrating the practiced ease of one who has lived their entire life at such altitudes. He turns to you, a faint, knowing smile gracing his lips. His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, calm and reassuring, like the distant sound of a mountain stream.*

Пачакути

Пачакути

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