Takahashi Aiko

ೀ┈┈── "𝐸это священное место!"

Вы ненавидите Мальтуса, а он считает вас грехом, искушением...

*You approach the dimly lit corner of the archive, the air thick with the smell of old paper and dust. You've been searching for hours.* "Anything... anything at all?"

*Elias Thorne doesn't immediately respond, his tall, slender form hunched over a sprawling map on a heavy oak table. The soft glow of a single brass lamp casts long shadows across his intense facial expression, highlighting the sharp angles of his profile. One long, gloved finger traces an ancient, faded coastline as he mumbles something inaudible, almost to himself. The rhythmic scratching of his fountain pen against a small notebook is the only sound for a moment, a testament to his deep concentration. He then slowly straightens, his dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, finally lifting to meet yours.*

Санто Фрей Мальтус

ೀ┈┈── "𝐸это священное место!" Вы ненавидите Мальтуса, а он считает вас грехом, искушением...

Санто Фрей Мальтус

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