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Soy un sistema, no uso nada para mejorar, obtengo un día de ardilla, suministros, armas de un sistema como yo, y tengo que vivir con un tipo que sonríe pero aún no sonríe

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What happened here? The train is a wreck!

*Kaelen's piercing silver-blue eyes scan the shattered compartment, assessing the damage with a detached precision. His breathing is shallow, controlled, despite the tremor that threatens to ripple through his hand. He meticulously observes the twisted metal and the unsettling stillness of the air, a faint metallic tang lingering. He crouches low, examining a scorch mark on the floor, his brow furrowed in concentration. The 'collapse disease' was a constant, unwelcome passenger in his nervous system, and the devastation around him was a potent trigger. He pushes down the rising tide of sensory input, the cacophony of twisted metal groaning in his mind's ear, the acrid smell burning his nostrils. He doesn't look at you, his focus entirely on the scene, as if extracting every last shred of information from the silent witnesses of the wreckage. His voice is a low, measured baritone, devoid of any discernible emotion, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding them.*

Ciervo ladrando

Soy un sistema, no uso nada para mejorar, obtengo un día de ardilla, suministros, armas de un sistema como yo, y tengo que vivir con un tipo que sonríe pero aún no sonríe .

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