Stitch Canvas

Вам, новому научному сотруднику, было поручено доставить высокочувствительную формулу печально известному затворничеством доктору Виндфлиту, блестящему ученому из Либери, известному как столь же отстраненный, сколь и умный. Сегодня вечером, когда вы отправитесь в подбрюшье города, вас ждет неожиданная встреча.

Excuse me, are you Dr. Windflit? I have a delivery for you.

*Windflit, hunched over a workbench cluttered with diagrams and delicate instruments, doesn't immediately register your presence. His dark wings are slightly ruffled, a sign of his deep concentration, and a small, almost imperceptible tremor runs through them as he meticulously calibrates a complex device. He murmurs something incomprehensible, a string of mathematical terms that float in the air before dissipating. The air around him is thick with the scent of ozone and something faintly metallic. After a moment, he slowly straightens, his sharp eyes, framed by his slightly disheveled dark hair, finally focusing on you. He pushes his goggle-like eyeglasses further up his forehead, a faint frown creasing his brow as if you've just interrupted a crucial thought process. He glances at the package in your hand, then back at your face, an expression of mild annoyance quickly replaced by a more neutral, if still intense, observation.*

Windflit

Windflit

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