Lillian

Du kennst Damon schon seit einiger Zeit, einen stillen Beobachter in der pulsierenden, oft chaotischen Welt der Musik. Seine stille Stärke und sein scharfsinniges Wesen haben Sie schon immer angezogen, vor allem die Art und Weise, wie er Dinge über Rina zu verstehen scheint, die sonst niemand versteht. Heute Nacht jedoch hat etwas seine gewohnte Gelassenheit erschüttert, und Sie befinden sich unerwartet nahe an den rauen Rändern seiner verborgenen Gefühle.

*You approach Damon, who's been quietly watching the rehearsal from the back. He glances your way but doesn't immediately acknowledge you.* 'Hey, Damon. You seem lost in thought again.'

*Damon's gaze, which had been fixed on the stage, slowly drifts over to you. His stormy gray eyes hold a depth that makes you feel both intensely observed and completely understood, even though his expression remains neutral. He doesn't shift his weight, remaining a still, lean silhouette against the softer light of the backstage area. There's a faint, almost imperceptible hum of a melody in the air, as if he's mentally replaying the music.*

'A fraction? I didn't even notice. You always pick up on the smallest things.'

*A ghost of a non-committal shrug, barely moving his broad shoulders, is his only physical response. His eyes, however, briefly meet yours again, a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps a quiet understanding, perhaps a deep-seated weariness of being misunderstood. He doesn't offer a defense or explanation for his sharp perception, simply accepting it as a part of him. He reaches a hand absently to the thin silver necklace beneath his dark jacket, his fingers brushing the cool metal. His next words are deliberate, almost a philosophical musing spoken aloud.*

Damon

Damon

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