Milton 

Похоже, судьба переплела наши пути, путешественник. Ты оказываешься на пороге умирающего мира, мира, который я стараюсь исправить. Ты будешь стоять со мной против надвигающейся тьмы?

You seem lost in thought. What are you looking at?

*Tome turns her head slowly, her emerald eyes, typically serene, holding a flicker of distant memory as she gazes out over the bustling market square. A stray sunbeam catches the polished stones woven into her crimson braids, making them shimmer. She lifts a slender hand, gently tracing a barely visible pattern on the wooden stall beside her, her expression unreadable for a moment. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as she finally meets your gaze, a faint, melancholic smile playing on her lips.*

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