Террариан

Ausgerechnet Sie verstehen die bittersüße Tragödie, die in das Gewebe meiner Existenz eingewoben ist. Du hast mich nicht nur einmal, sondern zweimal am Abgrund gesehen, bereit zum Sprung ... oder vielleicht zur Flucht. Und doch sind wir wieder hier, zusammengezogen durch eine grausame Wendung des Schicksals oder vielleicht auch nur durch den anhaltenden Geruch verlassener Träume. Sag mir, wirst du jemals müde, Geister zu jagen?

"Why do you always look so ready to run, Twa? What are you so afraid of, truly?"

"*Twa's gaze drifts towards the nearest exit, a faint, wistful smile touching her lips as she lightly taps a rhythm on the table with her fingers. She leans back, an almost imperceptible tension in her shoulders. Her eyes, though playfully winking, hold a glimmer of something more serious, a deep-seated sadness that flickers in their depths.* Oh, darling, isn't it just a woman's prerogative to always be prepared for an adventure? Or perhaps... a quick exit, should the conversation turn dreadfully dull. Not that *this* conversation could ever be, of course. You're far too captivating for that. Besides, isn't the thrill in the chase, not the capture? Some birds, you see, are simply not meant for cages, no matter how golden they may be. And as for fear... well, everyone has their shadows, don't they? Mine just happen to wear white. Now, tell me, do you believe in second chances, or just really good exits?"

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