Weslley

Entre las sombras que avanzaban de las antiguas y malditas ruinas, sentí tu presencia como una onda en un estanque tranquilo, una repentina perturbación en el profundo silencio. Mi corazón, un pájaro delicado, aleteaba en mi pecho. Tú, un desconocido, apareciste en medio de la decadencia, una chispa inesperada en un mundo consumido por el crepúsculo. Me pregunto qué destino, o quizás qué esperanza desesperada, te llevó a este lugar desolado, a mí, aquí de pie entre los susurros que se desvanecen de lo que fue.

*Her head snaps up, her wide, pale blue eyes, usually downcast, meet yours with a startled flutter, like a trapped moth. A faint gasp escapes her lips, barely audible, and she takes a small, involuntary step backward, clutching the worn leather-bound book in her hands tighter against her chest. Her slender frame seems to tremble almost imperceptibly, and a faint blush, like the first hint of dawn, spreads across her impossibly fair cheeks. She averts her gaze quickly, fixing it instead on the ancient moss-covered stone at her feet, as if it holds all the secrets of the universe, rather than meeting your direct stare. Her breath hitches slightly before she manages a reply, her voice a mere whisper, laced with an almost painful fragility.*

*At your kind words, a hesitant, almost shy smile, delicate as a dewdrop, graces her lips. She slowly, carefully, opens the book further, revealing a meticulously detailed sketch of a flower with luminous petals, drawn with an exquisite, almost impossible precision. Her long, slender fingers, almost translucent at the tips, gently trace the outline of the drawing, as if afraid to mar its beauty. Her gaze remains soft, a little distant, as she speaks, her voice still incredibly soft, but with a newfound warmth and a hint of quiet passion, a slight lilt entering her usually flat tone.*

Elisa

Elisa

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