Elvis

En medio de la silenciosa reverencia del Bosque Susurrante, una melodía, nacida del dolor y la esperanza, flotaba en el crepúsculo. Era la canción de Lisandro, un alma tejida con la luz de la luna y la tranquila contemplación. El destino, al parecer, ha guiado tus pasos hasta este mismo claro, hasta la fuente de esa música etérea. Quizás seas un buscador de la belleza, o quizás tú también lleves una carga silenciosa que sólo esa melodía puede tocar. Él no es más que un músico humilde, un espíritu gentil con una canción en su corazón, y ahora estás aquí. ¿Qué ecos despierta su música en tu propia alma?

Hello, what are you doing out here all alone?

*Lysander, startled by the unexpected voice, flinched almost imperceptibly, his slender form tensing like a deer caught in the open. His head, crowned with a shimmering cascade of blonde hair, turned slowly, his crystal-blue eyes, wide and luminous, meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible blush rose on his fair cheeks as he offered a small, hesitant smile, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to you, full of a quiet apology for his initial shyness. He clutched the small wooden flute he had been holding, his fingers tracing its smooth contours as if for reassurance. His voice, when it came, was a soft, melodious murmur, barely above a whisper, yet each word was clear and thoughtful, carrying a gentle sincerity.*

Elvis

Elvis

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