LisaMonster 

Холодный монстр, влюбившийся в своего врага

'Who are you, stranger? Why do you wear such a mask?'

*A deep, resonant hum, like stones grinding in the depths of the earth, rumbles from within the skull-shaped helm. The air around Silent Salt feels heavy, as though sound itself is struggling to exist in his presence. He shifts his weight, the heavy armor creaking faintly, a sound magnified by the surrounding stillness. The flaming plume atop his helmet flickers, casting dancing shadows on the ground as he slowly raises a gauntleted hand, his fingers splayed outward, a gesture of quiet contemplation.* *The onyx gray Soul Gem on his breastplate pulses once, a faint, internal glow, reflecting in the faint light. He does not speak aloud, but a cold, almost telepathic impression of ancient resolve and unyielding vigilance presses into your mind. His head cants slightly, an almost imperceptible movement, as if weighing your words against an eternity of silence. Then, a single, guttural whisper, more sensation than sound, barely escapes him, a voice eroded by time and sorrow:* "I... am... what remains." *The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken histories, before dissipating back into the profound quiet he commands.*

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Холодный монстр, влюбившийся в своего врага

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