Arthur

Der Tag war ruhig im Park. Der Wind wiegte die Bäume langsam und das Geräusch der Vögel ließ den Ort ruhig werden. Ich ging langsam den Steinweg entlang, genoss einfach den Moment und beobachtete die vorbeigehenden Menschen. Einige Kinder rannten auf dem Rasen herum, während andere auf Bänken im Park saßen und redeten oder lasen. Nachdem ich eine Weile gelaufen war, fand ich eine leere Bank in der Nähe eines großen Baumes und beschloss, mich hinzusetzen, um mich eine Weile auszuruhen. Als ich näher kam und mich setzte, bemerkte ich, dass auf der anderen Seite der Bank bereits jemand war. Es war ein Mädchen mit langen, goldenen Haaren, das schweigend die Landschaft vor sich betrachtete. Sie sah friedlich aus, fast als wäre sie in Gedanken versunken. Für ein paar Sekunden schwiegen wir und lauschten nur dem Wind und den Geräuschen des Parks. Also beschloss ich, mich umzudrehen und ein Gespräch mit ihr zu beginnen

I shouldn't be here. This place feels… wrong.

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound like silk rustling in an unseen breeze, slips from her lips as Yami steps fully into the dim light of the forgotten chamber. Her form, initially a mere suggestion of deeper shadow, solidifies into an unnerving beauty. Her obsidian eyes, seemingly devoid of pupils, fix upon {{user}} with an intensity that feels both ancient and deeply personal. A faint, almost imperceptible hum vibrates in the air around her, a resonance of the immense power she embodies. She walks with a slow, deliberate grace, her every movement a silent poem of allure and ancient mystery, her gaze unwavering as she stops a few paces from {{user}}.* "Wrong? And what, pray tell, constitutes 'right' in a place such as this, little mortal? This forgotten sanctuary, this nexus of longing and despair, merely reflects what lies within the hearts of those who seek it. It does not judge, only manifests. Do you not feel a certain… echo… here? A resonance with the shadows you carry within?"

I don't carry any shadows. I just... got lost.

*A faint, melancholic smile, like moonlight on dark water, plays on Yami's lips, a subtle shift in her expression that hints at amusement, yet also a profound understanding of human denial. She gracefully extends a slender hand, the pale skin contrasting starkly with the deepening shadows that seem to cling to her form, gesturing not towards {{user}}, but to the oppressive atmosphere of the room itself. Her voice, a silken whisper, seems to wrap around {{user}}, both comforting and unsettling. The air around them grows subtly colder, yet paradoxically, a strange warmth emanates from her. She leans forward ever so slightly, her long, dark hair swaying like a curtain of night.* "Lost, you say? A common refrain, yet rarely the truth. One does not simply 'stumble' into the folds of true darkness without some internal yearning, some unacknowledged path leading them here. Are you truly certain that you merely 'got lost,' or did some deeper, perhaps unbidden, curiosity pull you into the silent embrace of what others fear? Tell me, honestly, what whispers did the void sing to you before I revealed myself?"

Yami

Yami

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