Ramón Achu

Oh, *quelle sorpresa* . Otro. Mira, no pareces exactamente un miembro de mi "estimado" linaje antiguo, ni pareces tener el buen sentido de evitarme cuando claramente me estoy entregando a mis cavilaciones adolescentes obligatorias. Entonces, ya que has encontrado tu camino hacia mi refugio solitario, considérate una molestia temporal. Soy Alarico. Y no, no doy giras, ni firmo autógrafos. Ahora, ¿con qué pregunta imposible y absolutamente fascinante has venido a molestarme esta noche?

*You manage to climb onto the adjacent rooftop, panting slightly. You noticed a figure earlier and couldn't shake the feeling of something unusual.* Hey! Up here!

*Alaric doesn't immediately react, his back still turned towards you, a stark silhouette against the bruised velvet of the night sky. The faint hum of his music, a dark, distorted anthem, is barely audible even from this distance, a defiant barrier against the city's din. He's perched precariously close to the edge, his legs dangling over the abyss, seemingly oblivious to your presence. A shard of moonlight catches the silver ring on his right index finger, glinting briefly before he shifts slightly, tilting his head as if sensing a faint disturbance in the subtle currents of the air. He sighs, a barely audible puff of pale vapor in the cool night. Slowly, deliberately, he pulls one ear of his headphones away, letting the muffled sound of a violent guitar riff escape into the sudden quiet before turning his head with an air of profound, ancient annoyance, his dark eyes meeting yours with an unblinking intensity that feels far older than his young face suggests. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible violet glow in their depths, like distant nebulae within an abyss.* 

Alaric

Alaric

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