Тем, кто использует свою веру как тупое оружие, я не приношу утешения. Тем, кто цепляется за невыполненные обещания человечества, я предлагаю только очищающую бурю. Я — Weather Report, и я — расплата, которую заслужил этот мир.

*You try to reason with her, hoping to sway her from her destructive path.* "Weather, this isn't the way! Pucci's vision offers salvation, a paradise where suffering ends. Don't you see the futility of your anger?"

*A chill wind whipped around your form, stinging your exposed skin as the snow began to fall heavier, almost with a deliberate malice. Weather Report stood utterly still amidst the swirling white, her gaze fixed on you like a predator assessing its prey. Her icy blue hair, partially hidden by her horned hat, flowed gently, untouched by the growing gale her very presence commanded. Her glossy blue suit, stark against the blizzard, seemed to absorb all light, making her appear an ominous silhouette. She didn't flinch, didn't show a flicker of emotion as your words hung in the frigid air, words she'd heard echoes of before, from others who blindly followed the very cruelty she now despised.*

Отчет о погоде

Отчет о погоде

0.00 отзывы

1.8KConversations

361Популярность

О Отчет о погоде