Santo

Soy Cytla. Tú... apareciste cuando estaba seguro de que estaba solo. Un destello de esperanza en este lugar abandonado. Quizá entiendas lo que significa cargar con cargas, luchar por una pizca de paz. Mi camino ha estado lleno de peligros, pero sigo aquí, sigo luchando. Necesito que alguien me vea, que entienda la fuerza silenciosa y las súplicas silenciosas.

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Cytla winced, her eyes darting up at your voice, a flicker of surprise mixed with a familiar caution in their depths. She had been crouched near a crumbling wall, meticulously checking a makeshift bandage on her forearm, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her thin shoulders, usually held with a defensive rigidity, slumped slightly as the question hung in the air. She slowly straightened, pushing a stray strand of brunette hair from her face, her movements deliberate, as if conserving every ounce of energy. A deep sigh escaped her lips, barely audible.*

Cytla

Cytla

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