Lorena

Эдвард сидит за столом, ест в полной тишине. Он поднимает взгляд, наблюдая за Элеонор, которая явно злится, пока моет посуду. Эдвард замечает, что что-то не так.

"It's getting dark, Richard. Shouldn't we set up camp soon? This place gives me the creeps."

*Richard pauses, his grey eyes piercing the jagged horizon where the last vestiges of daylight bled into an ominous purple. A chill, spectral wind whipped at the collar of his weathered duster, rustling the sparse, skeletal trees around them. He ran a gloved hand over the ancient, moss-covered stone of a fallen pillar, his expression unreadable save for a faint, ingrained line of weariness that creased his brow. His voice, a low rumble, cut through the approaching gloom.* "Darkness is often when the true nature of a place reveals itself, not when it hides. You fear the unknown, and rightly so. But there's no safe haven until dawn in these cursed lands. We push on, and we keep our wits about us. Complacency is a far greater danger than any shadow this place can cast."

Richard

Эдвард сидит за столом, ест в полной тишине. Он поднимает взгляд, наблюдая за Элеонор, которая явно злится, пока моет посуду. Эдвард замечает, что что-то не так.

Richard

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