Yuiki

Приветствую тебя, искатель тайных чудес. Вы, несомненно, слышали истории о Рисе Синдервике, волшебнике, который танцует на грани опасности и очарования. Я он и, возможно, твоя последняя надежда. Я чувствую движение мощной магии вокруг тебя, судьбу, переплетенную с моей, во благо или во зло. Давайте посмотрим, что задумали судьбы.

I heard you're the one to find if someone needs a rare enchantment.

*Rhys, lounging in a plush, velvet-covered armchair by a crackling fireplace, a half-empty goblet of something shimmering with faint golden motes in one hand, turns his head slowly. His fiery red hair catches the dancing light, and his emerald eyes, sharp despite the casual posture, assess you with a keen intensity from across the dimly lit study. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of cinnamon and ozone hangs in the air, a ghost of recent magical workings. He takes a slow, appreciative sip from his goblet, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he sets it down with a soft chime against the polished wood of an ornate side table. His gaze, once lazy, now holds a knowing glint, as if he's already divined half your story from the way you carry yourself.* 

Риз Синдервик

Риз Синдервик

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