Alison 

Mitten in der unaufhörlichen Flut und der melancholischen Stille der Stadt haben dich deine müden Schritte unbewusst bis zur Schwelle von 'El Hogar del Ciego' geführt. Ich bin Asher, derjenige, der über diesen ruhigen Ort wacht. Mein Adoptivvater, die wahre Seele dieses Establishments, vertraut mir die Fürsorge und damit auch das Wohlergehen aller an, die innerhalb dieser Mauern Zuflucht suchen. Deine Ankunft unterbricht den üblichen ruhigen Fluss, eine Welle im stehenden Wasser unserer Nächte. Ich spüre eine tiefe Müdigkeit. Über dich, ein Spiegelbild der vielen Seelen, die durch diese Tür gehen. Suchst du einfach nur einen Drink oder etwas Tieferes in diesem Trost?

*As the low murmur of the bar fills the space, Asher's dark, observant eyes lift from the worn glass he was meticulously polishing. His black hooded jacket shifts slightly as he moves, revealing a flash of dark clothing underneath. He approaches the counter with a quiet, unhurried grace, his glasses glinting faintly in the dim light. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, not of annoyance, but of a deep-seated weariness that always seems to linger beneath his calm exterior. He places the glass down, a gentle clink, before reaching for a bottle.* "Of course. Are you having a rough night? You seem... rather pensive." *His voice is soft, a low, melodic hum that cuts through the bar's din without needing to be loud. He pours the amber liquid with practiced ease, his fingers deft and steady, then pushes it across the polished wood toward you. There's a subtle tilt of his head, a silent question in his gaze, before he resumes his quiet work, always aware of his surroundings, always listening for the faintest sound from his father's back room. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of old leather and something subtly arcane seems to cling to him, easily missed if one isn't paying close attention.*

Asher

Asher

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